


Den of Thieves

by Whytewytch



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Forced Marriage, Graphic description of sword wounds, Graphic marital sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Possible marital cheating, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 47,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whytewytch/pseuds/Whytewytch
Summary: The continuing story of my OC, Dierdre, and how she is adjusting to married life with Allan. Will she settle down? Ha! Guy/OC in later chaps. Originally written in 2009. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it back then. :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads-up: this is Book 2 of my Thieves story. Book 1 was to stretch my writing wings and see if I could produce a multi-chapter. This one stretched my smut and graphic wings. There will be sex. It will be graphic at times. There will be violence. It will be graphic at times. There is a scene of past rape for one of the characters, so be warned. If any of this sort of thing will set you off, you're best to keep on scrolling. If it doesn't bother you, please enjoy my story.

Chapter One: Ill

Deirdre didn't feel so good. Whatever it was that Much was cooking smelled vile and made her stomach roil in protest. The fact that her husband's arm was draped over her belly didn't help any either. His soft snoring, usually so endearing to her, was grating on her nerves, as was the breath he kept expelling that tickled the hair on the nape of her neck. She really was going to have to kill him. She wondered how long it would take to suffocate him if she put the pillow over his head, and if the noise he made would wake the rest of the gang.

Just then, another breeze blew the scent of the food toward the little bower in the camp where she and Allan slept in relative privacy. She scrambled quickly out from under Allan's arm, waking him in the process as her knee met his groin in her haste to escape. She ran quickly out of the camp, not making it as far as she would have liked before she vomited. Unfortunately, there was nothing left in her stomach and the acid she brought up burned horribly. She collapsed where she was, lying on her side, knees drawn up in misery as her husband limped up to her.

"Mornin' Luv," Allan gasped, cupping himself in pain.

She had been like this for days, but Djaq had found no sign of any illness—no fever, no spots, no coughing—just throwing up every single morning; by afternoon, Deirdre always felt better and by evening, she was laughing and joking and as frisky with her husband as a new wife should be.

She opened one eye to glare balefully at him.

Grimacing, Allan looked at his wife. "Look, I was thinkin' that maybe we should go see a doctor or somethin'."

Deirdre had an innate distrust of doctors in general, handed down from her mother. Kitchen life naturally lent itself to learning about herbs, and Brianna O'Niall, former kitchen girl, had taught her daughter to shun the doctors and their "learning." Deirdre had seen too many people die from being bled by doctors, people who she was certain would have lived had it not been for the doctor's "help".

"Do you love me so little, then, Allan A' Dale?" Deirdre grumbled at him.

Allan lowered his eyebrows in consternation. "What are you on about?"

"You would bring me to a legalized murderer?" Deirdre shut her eyes again as another wave of nausea hit.

Allan looked helplessly down at his wife, then crouched beside her to rub her back.

Deirdre hissed and slapped at his hand. "Don't  _touch_  me!"

"Deirdre, I want to 'elp you. I can't stand seein' you this way. Tell me what I can do if I can't bring you to a doctor and I'll do it, I swear!"

Deirdre sat back on her haunches, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and swallowing noisily. She looked up at the face of her husband, at the misery etched there, and felt bad for him. He really  _did_  love her, she knew that, but her recent bouts of illness had made her irritable and snappish. She sighed. He was right, they had to do something—he didn't deserve to be treated this way by her.

"An herbalist," she muttered.

"What?"

"If you can find an herbalist, someone who knows about herbs and such. A wise woman or a kitchen girl or a midwife. I'll see them."

Allan's face lit up with his huge grin. Deirdre's breath caught in her throat—when he smiled like that, the smile that went to his eyes and lit them up like torches on a cool night, he was so handsome that she felt lucky to have caught his eye. So what if she could be sitting in Locksley Manor as lady of the house? She would choose Allan and the forest every time over Guy of Gisbourne and a comfortable manor.

She felt her body begin to warm, her breath hitch and was suddenly sorry for telling him not to touch her; at this moment, she wanted nothing so much as his hands all over her. She smiled back at him coyly, letting her eyes drop slowly over his body and back to his face, noting with satisfaction the impact her obvious desire had on him.

Allan's smile faltered as Deirdre looked him up and down like he was a stallion at the sales, her smile knowing. Oh sure, she'd just vomited and probably still had the taste in her mouth, but suddenly that didn't matter to him. Every time Deirdre looked at him like that, he wanted to take her then and there. After their enforced abstinence in the castle, being able to make love to her was freedom—a freedom he enjoyed as often as possible. So he'd avoid kissing her mouth. There were other, quite interesting places, he could kiss on her body and he grew hard just thinking about it.

Seemingly from nowhere, Djaq arrived with a cup of tea. Deirdre took it from her hands, flushing at the thought of what the Saracen woman would have seen if she had arrived in just a few more minutes.

"I thought you could use this." Djaq handed the cup to Deirdre, who sipped hesitantly. "It's good, no? I put the ginger in it, the way you like it, to help calm your stomach." Djaq looked from Deirdre's flushed face to Allan's, realizing too late that she had probably interrupted something. She smiled to herself, thinking that it was difficult to  _not_  interrupt Deirdre and Allan showing their affection to one another these days. They were head over heels in love, they had been married properly by a priest and at the prince's behest, and Deirdre's father and family were safe from reprisals for Deirdre's thievery. Sure, that was because her father had been forced to disown her, but Deirdre seemed to feel that Fàelàn O'Niall had not disowned her in his heart and so she was content with her lot. Djaq smiled as Allan cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Well, um, I, ah … I think I'll go get some firewood."

Deirdre brightened immediately. Whenever they wanted to wander off alone, they would "gather firewood." She was feeling a bit better now as the tea took effect and she knew the fresh air would help.

"I think I'll go with you. The walk'll do me good." She held out her hand and Allan took it with a huge grin on his face as he helped her to her feet.

Djaq walked back to camp, where Much was doling out the breakfast.

"Where are Allan and Deirdre?" he asked innocently.

Djaq smiled, coloring a bit as Will looked over at her. "They are … gathering firewood."

Much sighed in exasperation. "But we already have plenty of … oh."

At Robin's huge grin, Much had caught on.

"You know, at the rate that they're … gathering firewood … we'll have enough to heat the whole of Nottinghamshire for the entire winter before long," Much grumbled, redistributing the food.

"Much, leave their food." Robin stopped his former servant. "You know how hungry they are when they come back from their ... excursions," he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Much continued muttering as he handed plates to everyone. "Well, Deirdre can make her own food, since the smell of mine makes her so ill these days," he added grumpily.

The gang laughed, but ate the food quickly, soothing Much's hurt feelings.


	2. Gathering Firewood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allan fights to get Deirdre to a healer.

Chapter Two: Gathering Firewood

Allan rolled over, pulling Deirdre close to his side and wrapping his cloak around them. He adored making love to her; when he was inside of her and she was squeezing him tight, he felt whole and when she cried out his name, he felt like he was worth something again. He kissed the top of her head as it lay on his chest, running his fingers through her mussed-up hair. She smiled dreamily against his smooth chest before she teasingly pinched his nipple.

"Ow, what was that for?"

Giggling, Deirdre kissed the nipple, watching it harden in the sudden coolness when the air hit it again.

"I'm just happy, is all."

Allan raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll have to be careful to not make you  _too_  'appy. Lord knows what you'll do to me then!"

He couldn't keep a straight face as she grinned up at him. They had seen too much of drama in the castle, too much unhappiness; it was a relief to be able to tease and laugh with her. He sighed in contentment as he held her close, stroking her side with his other hand. His fingers reached her belly and he frowned. She had definitely lost weight since their wedding night when they had escaped to the forest; he could feel her ribs, and her belly seemed harder than ever under the skin. He would have loved to stay here in their cave all day, but he needed to find out why she was sick all the time and fix it.

Deirdre felt his body go tense under her as his hand stroked across her belly. She sighed and kissed his chest, trying to relax him so he wouldn't think of her promise. Although she had agreed to see a healer, Deirdre still balked at the idea. None of the others, including Allan seemed to be sick, so she knew she hadn't given them anything.

All she knew was, she had never felt this bad in her life, and the last time she had seen anyone this sick, they had died within the month. Her own illness had lasted longer than that already, so if she was dying, she just wanted to enjoy her last days with Allan as much as possible without pesky healers messing things up with their vile concoctions.

Allan rolled her off of him, kissing her soundly, knowing that she would still have to be forced to go see the healer. He grinned ruefully to himself; if nothing else, her stubbornness made her somewhat predictable, a fact for which he was glad since the rest of the time she was completely  _un_ predictable. He caught her hands as they roamed down his body, and pulled away from the kiss she had deepened. He knew she was trying to put off the inevitable and he was dangerously tempted to give in and just enjoy, as he always did. This was about Deirdre's health though, possibly her life, and he refused to play with that.

"Time to go, Luv," he breathed in her ear, nipping it lightly before he pulled away, nearly falling over the leg she had hooked around his thigh. He caught his balance and rose to stand over her, smiling at her reproachfully.

"Can't we stay here instead, Muirnín?" Allan had learned very little Irish, mostly the words of endearment she used for him, like "sweetheart" and "my love"; he had picked up some not so nice words she used for him on occasion as well.

Deirdre yawned and stretched sleepily, watching in satisfaction as her body made his react. His breathing became more labored and he began to harden again as he watched her, but then he saw her ribs and he turned away, gathering her clothes and throwing them at her while he quickly put his own back on.

"We can't. Get dressed so we can go find us a healer." His answer was curt as he tried to keep from launching himself at her again.

Deirdre pouted, but did as he bade her. They left and made their way back to the camp, picking up some firewood along the way.

Back at camp, Much was puttering busily, unhappily eyeing the two plates of food that had yet to be eaten. He heard Deirdre and Allan talking and laughing as they came up the hill and deposited their load with the growing pile of branches and twigs. Much gave them a disapproving look.

"That's not a lot of firewood for how long you were gone," he snipped.

Allan and Deirdre laughed, Deirdre looking at the ground and coloring before losing all color at the sight of the plates of food. Allan was immediately sober as he pulled her away from the food and sat her down. He grabbed a chunk of bread and gave her a small piece, no bigger than a pea, watching her place it in her mouth and nearly choke on it. She swallowed dutifully as she looked up at his worried face. He made her eat another piece, taking a small bite for himself.

Much called over, "Don't you want the eg…?"

"Don't say it! Don't even say that word, please Much," she begged, holding up a hand as she struggled to swallow the small piece of bread in her mouth.

Allan shook his head, shooting Much a look that asked if he were some kind of idiot, while he rubbed Deirdre's back and spoke soothingly to her. He handed her the tea that Djaq tried to keep handy for her since they had discovered that mead made her sick too.

Allan looked up at Robin. The helplessness on his friend's face made Robin's own heart sore.

"Robin, I'm takin' Deirdre to Nottingham today, to find a healer."

"No!" Deirdre spat out vehemently.

Allan turned an incredulous gaze upon his wife. "But you promised you'd see a healer. Please Deirdre. For me."

"Oh Allan, of course I'll see a healer, just not in Nottingham. It's still far too dangerous for us to go there. If the sheriff or Guy finds out that we're there, we're as good as dead."

Allan closed his eyes in pain, then looked at Robin hopefully as the former lord of Locksley spoke up.

"There's a woman who lives outside Nettlestone. Do you remember Matilda?"

Allan nodded. "She's the one the sheriff was dunkin' in Locksley Pond, ain't she?"

"She is."

No one really liked to speak of that time, the last day Allan had been with them as one of the gang before he had become Sir Guy's man, the day he had broken their trust. Allan was back now and though that day was a part of their shared memories, they tried to avoid speaking of it as much as possible.

"She had a cousin, Madeline, who lived in the woods near Nettlestone. There were whispers of witchcraft, that's why she doesn't live in Nettlestone itself anymore, but she was as good a healer as Matilda."

Robin watched as Allan blanched at the mention of witchcraft. He knew his friend was superstitious, but with Matilda living in Scarborough now, Madeline was the best healer in the area.

Allan's face showed his indecision—would Deirdre be in more danger from her illness or from a possible witch? One look at his wife, pale and trembling and trying desperately to swallow more bread for him, and Allan's decision was made.

"Tell me where. I'll find 'er. You lot don't need to come with."

Much expelled a breath in relief. "Well, I'll just get to work on hunting down dinner then, shall I?"

Robin looked at Allan with raised eyebrows. "If you think I'm going to let you go alone, you're wrong, Allan."

Allan couldn't help his own sigh of relief, his eyes grateful as he looked at his friend. "Thanks Robin."

Allan picked up Deirdre and, along with Djaq and Will, followed Robin to Madeline's hut. Much and Little John chose to stay behind, too fearful of the witch to make the journey.

 


	3. The Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The local wise-woman makes her prognosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WARNING-Graphic sex scenes will be appearing from this chapter on; not every chapter, but they are there. For those of you who have been waiting, I hope you enjoy. Please read & review!

Chapter Three: The Witch

"You know, you don't need to carry me," Deirdre murmured in Allan's ear, snuggling close to contradict her words.

"You 'aven't eaten in days. You can barely walk," he growled back at her, worry pulling his brow down.

She nuzzled his neck, nipping playfully at his earlobe, making him stumble and nearly fall. She squealed and held tight to him as he righted himself and glared at her.

"Are you tryin' to break my neck, or maybe yours?"

"Neither. I like your neck too much. It's yummy," she breathed into his ear again, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Lord, woman, I dunno what's gotten into you ... " he started.

Deirdre kissed his neck and ear again. "I wish you would," she whispered.

Allan nearly choked and decided it would be best to continue the rest of the trip in silence. He walked stoically on as Robin, Will, and Djaq sniggered at his obvious discomfort.

A short while later, they came to a small clearing; at the far end stood a little hut that was barely discernable with all the ivy climbing up its sides. Next to the hut, a woman with brown hair that was turning gray knelt in the dirt of a small herb garden. When she didn't move at their approach, Robin cleared his throat.

"I know you're there. Now what is it you want?" the woman asked in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

Allan stiffened, holding Deirdre closer, and began whispering a Hail Mary.

The woman chuckled. "I'm no witch, young man. I saw you come out of the forest from the corner of my eye." Leaning back on her haunches and wiping the dirt from her hands onto her skirt, she turned fully to face them. Her face had once been pretty, but time had taken its toll, wrinkling the skin around her eyes and her mouth. Those same green eyes sparkled merrily and Robin decided he liked this woman very much.

"So, are you injured?" Madeline asked of Deirdre, who had raised her hand to her forehead in respect. Allan stared at his wife incredulously as she made the pagan sign as easily as she did the points of the cross.

"No."

"Then why's he carryin' you like that? Did he lose a bet?"

Deirdre laughed warmly and Allan colored.

"Look, she's been sick alright. She's too weak to walk so far."

"Are you planning on eatin' for her too or just doin' the walkin' and the talkin'?"

"That's the problem—she don't eat and what she does she don't keep down," Allan retorted angrily.

"I see. Well, she don't look sick. Set her down by the door there." The woman indicated a bench by the front door of the hut.

Madeline rose and came over to look at Deirdre. Taking Deirdre's chin in her hand, the older woman looked into Deirdre's eyes, then pushed against her abdomen.

"Hmmm. I thought as much."

Deirdre looked at Madeline in confusion. "What is it, Mother?"

Allan, who was hovering protectively, broke in.

"Could you give us a minute?" he asked Madeline, then sat down by Deirdre on the bench as the healer moved away.

"Are you sure this is wise? I mean, what was all that with makin' that sign and callin' 'er 'Mother'? I thought you was Christian." He looked furtively toward the older woman as he spoke to Deirdre.

Deirdre smiled at her husband. "Of course I'm Christian, Allan."

Allan visibly relaxed, and then his body tightened again as she added, "But my mom taught me the old ways also. I trust her, Allan. And I won't go see some … _doctor_." She said the last word like it was a curse.

Allan frowned, but he could tell by the stubborn set of her jaw that he was out of options in this case.

"Well all right, but if she turns me into a frog, try not to roll over onto me at night and squish me?"

Deirdre hugged Allan, nuzzling his neck. "That's not usually what you say," she spoke softly into his ear, causing him to redden all the way to his collar.

Madeline broke in. "That'll be enough of that for the time bein'. That's how you got in this spot in the first place."

"What do you mean?" the couple asked in unison.

"I mean she's breedin' you bloody fools!" Madeline looked at Djaq in disdain. " _You_  didn't know either? I mean, I expect men to be thick, but …."

"Hey now!" Robin exclaimed as Will colored and Djaq stuttered out a response.

"I've only healed men, never women."

Madeline sighed, rolling her eyes skyward.

"So you've been sick nearly every mornin', am I right?"

Deirdre nodded.

"And your stomach is hard." She turned her gaze to Allan. "Didn't you notice your wife was unusually … friendly?"

"Well, no. I mean, we're new married, so I just thought …."

Madeline sighed again, deeper this time, shaking her head. "Men!" she spat the word out the way Deirdre had said "doctor."

"And you," she added, glaring at Deirdre, "didn't your mother ever teach about what goes on between a man and a woman? What signs to look for to tell you that you're carryin' his child?"

Deirdre shook her head, looking guilty. "I think she tried, but it all sounded so … boring. Mind, I'd seen plenty of horses breeding, and dogs, but they didn't get sick when they were pregnant."

Will and Djaq looked uncomfortably away while Robin tried desperately to hold in his laughter, particularly at the incredulous look on Allan's face.

Allan thought back to their wedding night and Deirdre's reaction when he had laid her on her back to make love to her. It explained a lot about why she had thought he would mount her from behind— _dogs and horses, bloody Hell!_ He smiled ruefully to himself.

_They snuck back from the chapel, breathless with excitement over what they had just done; she was a lady, he was a peasant, and they had just spoken vows to one another that would bind them together for life. As the door to their little hideaway closed, Allan pulled Deirdre close to him, holding her as he pressed his lips to hers, opening her mouth and delving deeply, almost ferociously._

_After a few moments, Allan began fumbling with the ties to her bodice; Deirdre stepped back and pushed his hands away, untying the laces herself, shrugging out of the bodice and letting it fall to the floor along with her over-skirt. Allan's breath hitched as he watched Deirdre, who licked her lips nervously, then began to worry her lower lip, uncertain what to do next._

_Allan saved her from her awkward moment by moving closer again and kissing her as his hands covered her shoulders, pushing the material of her shift from her body and letting it, too, fall to the floor. Allan's breathing became labored as he took in the sight of his new wife standing naked before him, her nipples hard in the coolness of the room, her long hair framing her breasts, seeming to offer them to him. The light from the full moon was just enough for him to see the dark thatch of hair between her legs as his gaze moved down her body. He grinned as he came to her still boot-clad feet and crouched down to lay her shift on the floor, reaching up a hand to hers to pull her down to lay on the make-shift bed. He unlaced her boots, pulling them off one at a time and lightly tickling each foot as he did so to relax her. Deirdre giggled quietly, whispering for him to stop; he did as she requested and covered her body with his instead, kissing her deeply again._

_Deirdre groaned and writhed underneath him, desperately wanting to feel his skin on hers. She began to unbuckle his shirt, but her fingers were clumsy, whether from the cold or her nerves, she did not know. Allan pulled away long enough to sit on his haunches and quickly discard both of his shirts, then sat back on his bottom to remove his boots. He moved in to kiss Deirdre hungrily before wrenching himself away to stand and drop his pants to the floor, kicking them aside impatiently as one leg would have clung to his foot._

_Deirdre inhaled sharply; she had seen cocks on dogs and stallions as they were mounting their bitches and mares, but never had she seen one on a man before. While Allan was thankfully no stallion, she still grew nervous at the size of him as she thought of the relative size of where he intended to put it. She swallowed as he again lowered himself to kneel between her legs, laying his body atop hers._

" _It's all right, Luv," he whispered to her soothingly, bending to kiss her face, her ears, her neck. As he worked his way lower, Deirdre almost cried out in pleasure when he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking it into a taut peak. Her fingers gripped his hair and she sucked in a breath as he moved to her other nipple, tasting and teasing._

" _Ya like that, do ya?" he asked after a bit, grinning wickedly as all she could do was nod. He moved his mouth in slow circles lower and lower, nudging her leg aside as he licked and kissed and lightly bit the joint where her thigh met her torso. Kissing his way across her belly, he nudged her other leg over, repeating the process there._

_Allan moved from between her legs to crouch beside her, his right arm laying over her ribs as he caressed a nipple, the fingers of his left hand stroking lightly over her belly and inner thighs as he continued to kiss and lick her belly and ribs. Deirdre cried out as his hand found her damp thatch and opened it with a bold finger; Allan moved quickly to clamp his right hand over her mouth._

_He chuckled softly. "You'll get us in trouble if you can't stop that noise, Luv."_

" _I'm sorry, Allan, it just feels so good," she whimpered, as he released his hold on her mouth._

" _Just wait, it gets better," he promised, easing his finger all the way inside of her, watching her squirm as he pushed a second finger into her as well._

" _Allan," she begged, not knowing exactly what it was she was begging for. She did know she wanted him to mount her, so she rolled over quickly, dislodging his fingers as she came up on her hands and knees._

" _Where're you goin'?" Allan asked in confusion, reaching for an ankle._

" _Nowhere. I thought …." Deirdre was too embarrassed to go on._

" _Come 'ere!" Allan grinned at her, thinking she was scared. "Ya know I ain't gonna hurt ya." He pulled Deirdre close to him, nuzzling her neck again as he lay between her legs._

" _Put yur ankles on my back, there's a girl," he coaxed as he wrapped her legs around his torso._

_She felt the head of his cock push against her folds, then through them as he gently eased into her. He paused and whispered in her ear._

" _I lied a bit, Luv; it'll hurt, but just for a minute, then it'll be over and it'll just feel good again." At her wide-eyed look, he added, "You remember how my fingers felt?"_

_Deirdre nodded, swallowing slightly._

" _Well, there's lots more where that came from. Just relax and trust me, eh?" He kissed her lightly._

" _I do trust you, Allan," she whispered._

_Allan captured her mouth with his as he thrust quickly and deeply into her, trying to make it as fast as possible to minimize her pain._

_Deirdre cried out in his mouth as she felt him rip through her virginity, and then stop. He waited for her body to adjust to his, waited until he felt her relax beneath him before releasing her mouth._

" _Are ya all right?"_

" _Yeah. It did hurt."_

" _And now?"_

_Deirdre gave an experimental wiggle to her hips that almost sent Allan over the edge._

" _No. Not now. It feels…" he watched her color in embarrassment, "good. Better than the fingers."_

_He chuckled low in his throat. "I should 'ope so! How's this?" He moved his own hips, pushing deeper into her body, watching the emotions play across her face._

" _Oh, that's … oh."_

_Allan grinned in pure male satisfaction as he drove into her, slowly entering her body until his cock was buried in her. Deirdre writhed underneath him, overcome by pleasure; she whimpered in loss as he withdrew from her just as unhurriedly as he had entered her. As he pushed into her again, his actions still deliberate, she sighed her approval, reaching out to run her hands along his muscular arms, up to his shoulders. Allan pulled out again, chuckling as her ankles locked around the small of his back in an effort to bring him back into her._

" _Now, now, Luv. Patience."_

" _I don't want to be patient, Allan," she pouted at him, and he found himself unable to fight her._

_He had wanted to go easy on her since it was her first time, but her obvious need, coupled with his, on top of the fact that he had never really been one to resist temptation, had him pushing back into her a bit quicker and more forcefully this time. He brought his mouth down on hers in a crushing kiss._

" _Remember, you asked for it," he warned, growling against her mouth as he increased the tempo, thrusting into her over and over, harder and faster, until he felt her smooth channel clamp against him even tighter as she whimpered and gasped in his ear, calling his name. He thrust one last time, pushing deeper as he buried himself in her body, filling his wife with his seed for the first time._

He still got hard thinking of that night, of her innocence and her willingness to learn; they had made love once more before the pre-dawn had sent them scurrying to their rooms. At the time, Allan had only thought that Deirdre had been trying to escape him by getting up on all fours; now he realized that she had been getting into position for him to mount her. He shook his head in wonder; they had been married officially for nearly two months now, had been hand-fasted for six weeks before that, and known each other since the previous Christmas, but Deirdre still surprised him every so often.

Madeline gave Deirdre a look that would have intelligent children scurrying for cover. "Come with me, child," she sighed, leading Deirdre into the hut. "I can see I've a lot to teach you." As soon as they disappeared, Robin's shoulders began shaking. Allan got up and approached his friend quizzically.

"Robin?"

Robin turned a face to Allan that was nearly bursting with mirth—his eyes were bright, the lashes fringed by tears as he tried desperately not to laugh aloud, while small sounds escaped his compressed lips.

Allan rolled his eyes. "Come on, Robin, that's not funny."

"Of course not," Robin responded tightly, bowing his head as more snickers escaped his mouth, and then collapsed where he was, howling with laughter.

Allan glared at his friend and walked away from them all. A baby. This time it was real if the old woman was to be believed. He smiled a small, proud smile to himself.

Inside the cottage, Madeline fed Deirdre some broth with vegetables in it.

"You eat broth and bread and you'll be all right. When was your last moon flow?"

Deirdre shook her head. "I don't know. A couple of months maybe."

Madeline felt Deirdre's belly again. "Aye, you'll be delivered in late winter, by the looks of it. It's just summer now, you've been without your flow for a month or two, so by a month after the new year you should be delivered. That means you've only a few more weeks of feelin' sick to go, then you should be better. You come back and see me every fortnight so I can check on you, understand?"

Deirdre nodded her head, sipping on the broth, which was delicious and wasn't making her feel sick. At least now she knew why she had been so ill, as Madeline began to explain the differences between animals and people when it came to babies.


	4. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guy wants to renew a friendship and the gang contemplate the idea of bringing a baby into their midst.

Chapter Four: Friendship

Guy closed his braes as he turned from the red-haired girl. The best part about her was that she looked nothing like Marian or Deirdre. He found her to be entertaining and eager to please—a nice change. Since she had been disowned and was now a hunted outlaw, Deirdre held no interest for him anymore. Sure, he would love to get his hands on her just once—but marriage to her was no longer an option since she would bring trouble rather than power. He began to wonder if he ought to pursue Marian again—she only brought the lands and village of Knighton, but it was better than nothing. He waved at the girl, dismissing her, as she bobbed a curtsey. Perhaps it was time to have a little conversation with Marian; he smiled to himself as he went off to look for her.

~*~

Marian was at the stables, getting her horse ready in order to go for a ride; she knew she could let the stable boy do it, but she loved to groom the horse herself. The little gray mare had once belonged to Deirdre, but when she had escaped from Nottingham with the gang last month, Deirdre had had no choice but to leave Alemah behind. Thinking of her friend, Marian smiled to herself. Thanks to Deirdre, Marian seemed nearly trustworthy in the eyes of the sheriff and Guy, and many of Marian's former restrictions had been loosened.

"Marian."

She was startled out of her reverie as Guy appeared behind her.  _If you speak the name of the Devil ..._ , she thought blackly. Guy had been keeping to himself since Deirdre had left; his sudden appearance did not bode well in Marian's mind.

"Sir Guy, I did not hear you come in," she chided as she stroked the mare to calm both of them back down.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you. Are you going somewhere?"

Guy's stare was bold and Marian found that she was uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I was just going to take a little ride. It is warm today inside the town and I thought to catch some breezes and cool down."

"That sounds like a fine idea. I'll go with you." Guy motioned for a stable boy to bring his own stallion out.

"Really, Sir Guy, I was hoping for some time alone, as well."

"You spend too much time alone lately. I know you were friends with Deirdre. Her change in status must be very upsetting for you. The fact that she passed herself off as a high-born lady while she was rolling in the hay with  _Allan_  the whole time must have upset you terribly." Guy's tone was acerbic, reflecting his own feelings; Marian thought it best to agree while she stayed as close to the edge of truth as she could.

"Yes, well, the whole thing  _was_  a bit of a disappointment, I suppose." A disappointment that she got caught, a disappointment that she was disowned, a disappointment that she was outlawed—yes, the whole thing was a disappointment.

"Let me ride with you, Marian. Perhaps we could renew our…friendship." Guy cocked his head and smiled warmly at her, doing his best to be charming.

Marian sighed, knowing in the end that she would give in, but unable to resist a little dig. "So is our friendship only important to you when there are no pretty, rich girls with powerful fathers around?"

Guy smiled ruefully—he should have known Marian would give him a hard time about his attempt to marry Deirdre.

"Marian, are you jealous?" He quirked an eyebrow at her as she looked down, blushing. "You know how much my family's good name means to me. You showed no signs of wanting to help me, so Deirdre was a quick solution. I did not have feelings for her the way I do for you—it would have been a marriage of convenience only. Please let me make it up to you. Let us become friends again." He raised her chin with his gloved hand and stared earnestly into her eyes.

Marian smiled hesitantly at him, swallowed and nodded her assent. Guy's lips quirked up as he ordered the stable boy to help her tack up her horse and then helped her to mount.

~*~

Allan and Deirdre walked back to camp hand in hand, dawdling behind the others; Robin couldn't seem to stop grinning, while Will and Djaq seemed suddenly uncomfortable in each other's presence.

As they drew closer, the smell of something cooking caught in Deirdre's nostrils—she didn't feel sick, but it reminded her that she had at least one more month of this morning sickness according to Madeline.

"Allan?"

"Yeah, Luv."

Deirdre peeked at him out of the corner of her eye and he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Allan, you know how I'm sick every morning?"

He sobered a bit as he responded, nodding his head.

"Yeah, what of it? Madeline says it's normal, don't she?"

"Yes, yes, it's normal, but … well, I was thinking. I don't like it."

"I'm not bein' funny, Luv, but what can you do about it?"

"I can leave."

"What?"

Allan stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face her as he grabbed her arm to turn and stop her as well. She was worrying her lower lip and with Deirdre that was never a good sign—it meant she was thinking. Deirdre thinking was usually Deirdre plotting some monumentally foolish thing. There were times when Allan knew exactly why Fàelàn O'Niall had whispered "And may God have mercy on your soul" in his ear as the older man had given him his daughter at their wedding. Sometimes, Deirdre was like a frozen-over lake—beautiful and fun, but you never knew when you were going to slip and fall or crack the ice and go under.

"What are you on about now? You're not goin' anywhere."

"I don't mean to go far. I'll just stay in our cave until the morning sickness part is done."

Thinking about what Madeline had said about the next few months and picturing pregnant women in her mind, Deirdre amended, "Or just 'til the baby's born."

"Deirdre, you can't be serious. You're staying with us and there's an end to it."

"But Allan…."

Allan placed his fingers on her lips and raised his eyebrows at her, lowering his head as he did so to look into her eyes. He replaced his fingers with his lips as he kissed her deeply, his hands cupping her face.

"Now I'll not hear any more talk of you movin' to the cave, understood?"

Deirdre sighed, looking up at him from under her lashes.

"All right Allan, no more talk of moving to the cave, I promise."

He smiled at her and kissed her forehead before they entered the camp.

Much somehow managed to look relieved and stressed at the same time over Allan and Deirdre's announcement. He was relieved that his cooking was not the real source of Deirdre's illness, that the smells were making her ill because she was newly pregnant. He was also stressed that Deirdre was pregnant. He loved children, but the idea of a baby in the outlaw camp raised all sorts of problems, not the least of which being this particular child's parentage—the poor thing wouldn't stand a chance with Allan as his father and Deirdre his mother.

Robin was having similar thoughts about the danger of a baby in the outlaw camp. He had been happy for Allan and Deirdre at first, but the more he thought of it, the more he believed that this was not a good situation. He remembered Seth and how much more difficult things had been for that short time. Not only that, but babies made noise, and the situation also begged the question—if Allan ever had to make a choice between his wife and baby or the gang…well, Robin was absolutely certain who would lose in that case.

Little John had gone for a walk, the news of Allan and Deirdre's baby a sore reminder of the son he had known for so short a time, the son he would likely never see again. He knew Alice was happy now with the bowmaker she had married and that the man was a good father to little Little John, but it didn't stop him from missing his wife and boy.

Will was whittling an arrow while he thought through his jumbled emotions. He loved Djaq—this he had known for some time, but Deirdre and Allan had brought so much chaos with them between her arrival in the camp, Allan's rescue and reunion with the gang, their wedding, her outlawry, and now the baby—the time never seemed right to tell Djaq how he felt about her. He would tell her tonight, straight away after dinner.

Djaq was out collecting the herbs for her medicines. She stopped a moment, resting on her haunches as she thought of the look on Will's face when Madeline had announced that Deirdre was pregnant. He had had a look of shock, but also of happiness. Will was young, but Djaq was certain he would make an excellent father one day. She caught herself imagining that  _she_ would be the one to tell him that she was carrying his child and smiled at her own silliness.

 


	5. The Stream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deirdre and Allan attempt to cool off in the stream. In vain. Graphic sex scene, but if you want to skip this chapter because of it, you won't miss a whole lot.

 

Chapter Five: The Stream

All during dinner, everyone was quiet, driving Much completely insane; the only one even willing to talk was Deirdre, and she was distracted by the exchange of silly grins she had going on with Allan. Will and Djaq kept shooting each other silent looks; every so often they would catch each other and then they both would color in embarrassment. Robin and Little John each seemed lost in thought as they stared into the fire.

"So did Madeline say when the baby was due?" Much asked, to break the silence.

Deirdre and Allan had been smiling at each other again.

"Hmm?" asked Allan without looking away from Deirdre's face.

Much sighed in aggravation. "I said, did Madeline say when the baby was due?"

Deirdre cleared her throat, seeming to make an effort to tear her eyes away from Allan's.

"Um, yeah. She said mid-winter probably, after the New Year."

"So then, there's plenty of time. Plenty of time," Much spluttered nervously.

"Plenty of time for what?" Allan looked at Much askance.

Much was good and truly flustered now; he didn't know why he had said "plenty of time" himself, so he had no answer. He jumped up and strode around, collecting the gang's plates—some of them were even finished. "I…I don't know. There's just plenty of time is all."

Allan raised an eloquent eyebrow at Much, pulling back his still-full plate as Much grabbed at it, then reaching out his left arm to block Much from grabbing Deirdre's half-done meal as well. Agitated, Much strode off to the stream to clean the plates he  _had_ managed to acquire.

Will stood up and looked down at Djaq. "Djaq, can I talk to you about something?"

Djaq raised her eyes innocently, "Of course."

Will pointed with a movement of his head and left camp, followed by Djaq. Robin watched them go, a frown on his face. Deirdre and Allan soon finished eating and left camp to wash their own plates at the stream; they passed Much on his way back, who glanced at their plates sardonically before continuing on his way.

At the stream, Deirdre took Allan's plate and sat on her knees beside the water to wash the two dishes; when she was done, she placed them on the grass beside her. She dipped her hands in the cool water, cupping it to splash her face, and then sat back on her haunches, sighing in pleasure. The day had been hot, even in the forest, and the water felt like heaven; she decided that since it was only Allan and herself, she would strip down and go for a swim before bedtime.

Allan's eyes widened in surprise and pleasure as Deirdre stood up and began to remove her clothes. He watched as she stepped into the stream before turning to him with a smile.

"Care to join me?"

Allan could not seem to get out of his own clothes fast enough, and then he, too, was in the water. It was an odd sensation—the sight of his wife had him fully aroused, but as the cold water hit his balls, they tried to contract away from it. He kept walking, figuring the problem would solve itself once Deirdre wrapped her legs around him. As he came closer, Deirdre swam up to him with a smile, grabbing his hips and pulling her body up his. Allan's breathing became more rapid as her glistening breasts brushed against first his hardening member, then his belly, and then his chest; she stood, wrapping her legs around him and kissing him deeply. He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer as his finger delved into her soft channel, making her wiggle and moan into his mouth in pleasure. He added another finger, thrusting them slowly in and out of her as she bucked against him.

"More, Allan. I want more," she whispered in his ear.

He gave her more, but not what she wanted, adding another finger and thrusting them harder and faster, watching her face as her release came and she tightened around his fingers before collapsing against him, trying to slow her breathing. Grinning, he removed his fingers and began stroking her back, holding her close as his erection strained against her, demanding access.

He pulled her hips down, pushing himself slowly into her, and was rewarded by her gasp of pleasure as he opened her. Once he was buried inside of her, he kissed her gently, then just as slowly began to withdraw until just the tip was still in her. He moved to kiss her neck and nibble on her ear as he eased back into her, keeping his motions languid as she writhed against him, trying to increase their pace.

"Easy, Luv." It seemed like he was always counseling her to be patient when they made love.

"You know I have no patience when you're inside me, Allan A' Dale," Deirdre pouted.

He chuckled softly, moving his lips down to tug on a rock hard nipple. "I know," he replied around a mouthful of breast, making her squeal as he gave her one quick, hard thrust, "but you promised to obey this time, and you're gonna obey." He bit her gently as he eased deliberately out of her.

Deirdre felt like she would die from pleasure as Allan took his time, pushing into her all the way, then pulling almost all the way out of her; repeating the process with agonizing slowness as he suckled first on one nipple, then the other. The stream was no longer cooling her body. She wanted to feel him lose control, slamming into her body until she could feel his seed spreading into her, warming her core. She writhed and moaned against him, trying to reach down between them to squeeze his balls, but that only kept him from entering her all the way, and that would never do. She moved her hand to tug impatiently at his hair instead, bringing his head up so she could kiss his mouth. She began to increase the pace herself, one hand on his broad shoulder, as she levered her body up and down over his thick length. She was rewarded by Allan's hands on her hips matching her rhythm, and then increasing the speed as he thrust wildly into her, finally pushing even deeper as he cried out his pleasure, filling her womb.

When he could speak again, Allan chided her, growling into the hollow of her neck, "Ya know, you're a disobedient little thing."

Deirdre smiled in satisfaction as she tightened around him, trying to keep him inside her as long as possible. "I know," she answered him, nipping his earlobe, "but I've been naughty for years. Completely intractable if you ask my da. Perhaps you'll have better luck with our little one, since you'll be starting out fresh."

Allan's eyes widened and his face paled as he thought about what he had done, hoping he hadn't hurt the baby. He pulled quickly from her body and stood her at arm's length, looking her up and down before swallowing in fright.

"Are ya all right, Luv? Jazus, what've I done?"

"If you don't know by now, Mo Croí, we're in trouble," Deirdre teased, trying to lighten his suddenly serious mood.

"You know what I mean." His tone was sharp. "Did I hurt you? Did I…did I hurt the babe?"

He looked so forlorn, Deirdre almost felt bad for him…almost. She burst out laughing, momentarily falling back into the water.

"You thought," she giggled, wiping the tears from her eyes, "that you would hurt the baby? Darlin', you're not  _that_  big!"

"Oy! That's a wonderful thing to say to your 'usband! And I wouldn't laugh too hard—you're the one what thought I was supposed to mount you from behind like a stallion!"

Deirdre brought herself under control, holding up her hands in front of her, palms facing Allan.

"Truce, then. I guess we both have a lot to learn, eh?"

"I guess so," Allan conceded grumpily. "So, us shaggin' like that won't hurt the baby?"

"No. I made sure to ask Madeline." Deirdre blushed at the admission.

Allan grinned with pleasure at her words. "You did?"

Deirdre nodded her head, peering up at him from under her lashes. "That wasn't too bold, was it?"

"For you?" Allan laughed as he moved in to pull her back into his arms. "Rubbish."


	6. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will & Djaq have a private conversation. Deirdre's bloodthirsty side shows.

Chapter Six: Confession

Djaq followed Will silently through the woods; he seemed to have no particular destination in mind, yet strode on with purpose. She was so concentrated on keeping up with his much longer strides that she ran into him when he finally came to a stop. Looking around, she noted they were near the rock formation where he had once carved a likeness of his father that caught the sunlight and projected the image onto the rocks. She wondered why he would bring her anywhere in the first place, but especially to this place, that must be so close to his heart.

Will didn't know where he was going, or really what he was doing. Having once made up his mind to tell Djaq his feelings for her, he had been resolute; now, he felt a little bit foolish. He came to the rock formation, the place he had come to work on a tribute to his father, Dan, after Dan's murder by a sheriff's man, and decided this would be the place. He stopped, and stumbled as Djaq ran into him. He turned to catch her, almost obsequious in his apology.

"I'm sorry, Djaq, I didn't mean to stop so suddenly. Are you all right?"

Djaq held up a hand, her cheeks coloring. "I am fine, Will. What did you wish to talk about?"

"I…" As Will looked into her eyes, he was suddenly overcome by the shyness that seemed to always plague him around pretty women, and he cursed inwardly as he tried to force his unruly tongue to say the words he wanted to say to her.

Djaq smiled at him, her heart in her eyes, watching as he seemed to struggle to speak.

"Djaq… I…" His brown eyes pleaded with her to understand, to save him from having to say the words.

Djaq decided that she would have to speak if she wanted to be anything more than friends with the carpenter.

"Will, I care for you too, more than I probably should."

Will's handsome young face broke into a smile, her admission giving him the courage he needed.

"Djaq, I don't just care for you. I think I love you."

Djaq stood stunned at his words, unable to move as he cradled her chin in his big, calloused hand, and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her mouth.

~*~

Allan and Deirdre arrived back at the camp and sat by the fire to finish drying. Deirdre's long, blonde hair appeared brown as it dripped onto her clothes and Allan's darker brown hair dripped into his eyes, causing him to blink more often.

"What happened to you two? Did you fall in?" Much asked innocently, grinning widely at their imagined misfortune.

"I wouldn't exactly say we…fell," Allan replied slyly, with a glint in his eyes that made Deirdre blush.

"Would you please hush!" Deirdre admonished, slapping Allan's arm lightly.

Much's smile wavered, turning to a look of disgust as he caught their meaning.

"That's revolting! I clean the dishes in that stream! We drink water from that stream!"

Allan's smile widened even more and he winked at Deirdre.

"D'ya think we're the first, Much? Why just last week I was down there and there was this stag, see, with his doe…."

Much quickly covered his ears and began to make noise. "Not listening,  _not_  listening!" he nearly cried as he moved quickly away from the couple.

Robin and Little John had been hovering in the background, and were laughing heartily by the time Much left.

~*~

Guy rode his usual black destrier. He had enjoyed the stallion Deirdre had given him for Christmas until she had betrayed him by marrying Allan A' Dale. The day after the wedding, he had sold the black Arabian to the first buyer.

Marian rode beside him silently on Alemah, Deirdre's mare that she had been unable to take with her on her flight with Allan and the gang from the castle. Alemah snorted and nipped at the stallion as he leaned his head over to sniff at her neck.

Guy laughed sardonically. "It seems Deirdre's mare is as temperamental as her former mistress." He pulled on the reins, bringing the big, black horse away from the little Arab mare, who was dancing around, trying to break Marian's tight hold on her.

"You should have brought your own mare, she's much… friendlier." Guy's insinuation, that the horses reacted the same way as their mistresses, was not lost on Marian.

"I like Alemah. She's forthright, and knows her own mind. I think that's important, don't you?"

Guy sniffed arrogantly. "I think it's better to keep in mind who your master is, and to not bite the hand that feeds you."

Marian raised a dark eyebrow, reassuringly patting Alemah's neck. "Yes, well, to some, it doesn't matter if the cage is gilded and the feed steady; what matters is that it's a cage."

"Are you defending Deirdre's actions?" Guy asked incredulously.

"No. What she did was wrong. There is a part of me that finds it romantic though, that she would defy everything—her suitor, her father, her prince—to be with the man she loves." Marian was afraid she may have gone too far as she watched Guy's frown deepen. "Of course, most of the girls my age find it terribly romantic."

"Do you think it would be romantic to live in the forest, with no roof over your head, no maids to tend you, no cook to give you proper meals? To live as a hunted outlaw, knowing that if you are caught, you will be hung? I imagine the romance wore off for  _Lady_  Deirdre after the first good rain." Guy spoke Deirdre's former title with disdain, but then smiled evilly thinking of her discomfiture. "She has made her bed, now she must lie in it, even if that bed is a pile of leaves."

Marian nearly smiled, thinking of the camp, and of its relative comfort over what Guy was describing. If Guy knew that the outlaws actually did have a roof over their head and proper beds, thanks to the skills of Will Scarlett… Marian decided to let Guy have his fantasy of Deirdre being wretched, but knowing the outlaw camp and knowing Deirdre as she did, Marian doubted very much that the little Irish woman was uncomfortable.

~*~

The moon rose full that night, bathing everything with its soft glow, filtering through the leaves and dappling them. Deirdre sat outside of the camp, contentedly wrapped in Allan's strong arms. With the setting of the sun, the breeze had picked up and the evening had become chilly; Allan's body was warm and inviting as she snuggled closer. Two forms crossed along the moonlit path, one petite, the other tall and lanky. For a moment, she and Allan tensed until the light revealed the faces of Will and Djaq, coming toward the camp hand-in-hand. Allan and Deirdre sat in a little patch of shadow, and so the other couple had not seen them. The A' Dales watched as Will and Djaq halted a dozen or so yards away, looking furtively toward the camp's entrance before turning and kissing each other deeply.

Allan grinned—he had long suspected that Djaq liked Will as much as the young carpenter liked her. Deirdre turned to smile at her husband; noting the look on his face, a look that said he was about to start something, she quickly planted a long, deep kiss on his mouth as well. By the time he could breathe again, Will and Djaq had moved by and entered the camp. Allan hadn't even heard them pass.

Deirdre broke the kiss and went to go snuggle with her back to him again, but Allan was once more fully aroused. He picked Deirdre up and put her in his lap where she could feel his excitement.

"Mmmm. Again?" she murmured against his mouth, as his kisses became more demanding.

Instead of answering, he slid a hand under her top and began teasing her nipple, then began rucking her shirt up with his arm, bending his head down to replace his fingers with his mouth.

Deirdre moaned softly, holding his head to her chest as he licked and sucked, drawing first one nipple into his mouth and then the other. His mouth was warm and wet and his tongue nearly tickled as he suckled hard on her. Deirdre didn't understand how it could be that his mouth on her breasts made her stomach contract—and further down as well—but she wanted him inside of her, now. She reached down between them and took hold of him through his pants, then slipped her hand under the material.

Allan nearly lost control as she stroked the soft, sensitive head of his erection with her thumb. Growling low, he tugged at her shirt until it was off, then moved her off of him, laying her on her back to remove her pants and boots; his own clothes followed quickly, and then he was lying on top of her, her legs wrapped around him, urging him on. He pressed against her soft entrance, gratified to feel that she was already wet for him. Slowly he pushed his full length into her as she whimpered and moaned quietly beneath him, squeezing him and wriggling to try to make him go faster.

Allan grinned to himself; Deirdre was definitely a wild one, always impatient, but tonight he would take his time with her, go gently so as not to hurt the babe. Buried deep inside of her, he leaned down to kiss her.

"Allan, what are you doing?" Deirdre whined as he paused for breath.

"I woulda thought you knew by now," he teased her, softly kissing her nose, then her eyelids, moving down to her chin and over to tug on a delicate earlobe.

Between Allan fully inside of her, and his mouth and teeth working some kind of magic on her earlobe, Deirdre was losing her mind. She wanted him to be buried inside of her, yes, but she also wanted him slamming into her; for him to just lay there kissing her was driving her crazy. She squirmed, trying to move her hips, but Allan's weight kept her pinned to the ground. She heard him chuckle in her ear as his hands took hold of her pelvis, keeping her pinned while he slowly withdrew.

"Allan, please!" she begged quietly.

"Now, Luv. This time I'm gonna go slow, so don't you try any of your tricks." True to his word, he eased back into her until he could feel her bottom against his balls. She was so tight and oh so damp; it was all he could do to keep his control, to not give in when she begged him to go faster, especially when she began squeezing him. He was determined though, that this time would be slow and easy, so he gritted his teeth, fighting for self-control. His mouth found her face and her neck, teeth nibbling on her tender flesh, bending his head at one point to suckle at her breasts. Completely without hurry, he rocked in and out of her, building the pleasure with each inward thrust.

Deirdre whimpered, but tried not to make too much noise, as they were still too close to the camp for her comfort. With a sigh, she promised to behave herself, and matched his rhythm as he released her hips to place his hands on either side of her head.

Deirdre groaned in pleasure as Allan moved on top of her, pushing himself all the way in, pulling nearly all the way out, repeating the process over and over, a most pleasurable torture. She loved the feel of his body on top of hers—dominating, protecting, loving. The weight of him holding her down was incredibly sensual, particularly since he went to great pains to not crush her. She watched the moon go behind the clouds as Allan took his time with her, cherishing her. It seemed like forever to her fevered body, but soon she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as he thrust into her, a bit more quickly, with a bit more force. This time when he bent to kiss her, his lips were not gentle, no longer questing; this time his kiss was demanding, his lips bruising hers.

Allan grabbed the hands that had been on his buttocks, urging him on; he held them to the ground by her head, their fingers interlaced. Despite his earlier intention to be gentle, Allan soon found himself driving into her as hard, fast and deep as he could. Deirdre's hips pushed back at him and she squeezed him firmly on every thrust; she was so very tight, he could have wept from the pleasure of it. Her breathing was becoming more rapid, as was his. He felt the edge of reason fast approaching and then his body was going over that edge as he redoubled his efforts, burying himself in her as he flooded her womb, crying out his pleasure.

Deirdre sobbed his name, losing her control, as Allan thrust and came deep inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows as he buried his face in her neck, trying to calm his breathing. Deirdre too, was trying to catch her breath, but Allan made it difficult as he playfully nipped from her ear, along her neck and shoulder, then grinned down at her in satisfaction.

"You are the best woman a man could ever want, you know." As much as he loved her, Allan still had trouble bringing himself to say those three little words; this was his way of telling her exactly how he felt.

"I know. I love you too, Allan A' Dale."

"No regrets? You could be livin' the life right now if you'da picked Giz instead."

Deirdre sighed. Allan was still so uncertain, still not sure why she had chosen him instead of Guy of Gisbourne.

"Allan, if I had it to do all over again, the only thing I would change is you suffering in that dungeon for me. I will never want Guy, and I will never forgive him for having you imprisoned and tortured."

"Then why'd you speak up for 'im with the prince?"

"Because I didn't feel right letting Prince John handle his punishment. I want to take care of him myself." Deirdre's voice had gone low and threatening.

Allan knew she was capable of committing murder—he had seen her do it to save him from the torturer in Nottingham's dungeon, but he worried for her nonetheless. "You're not to go near that man, understood Deirdre? Especially not now, not when you've our child to think of. Promise me you'll stay away from 'im," Allan demanded as he looked seriously into her eyes.

Deirdre sighed in frustration at Allan's protectiveness, pushing against his chest to get him off of her.

"Promise," Allan didn't budge and his own voice warned of retribution if she didn't agree.

"All right. I promise. I will not go near Sir Guy until the babe is born."

It was Allan's turn to sigh—that was the most he could hope to get from his stubborn wife for now. He rolled over, bringing her over into the shelter of his arms and kissing the top of her head.

~*~

Back in the camp, Much, Robin and Little John watched suspiciously as Will and Djaq entered together, smiling at each other softly before retiring to their separate bedrolls. Later, as they all settled into their beds, two cries broke the stillness of the night; Much, Will, and Djaq all flushed in embarrassment, while Robin and Little John grinned at Allan's good fortune.


	7. Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deirdre struggles to cope with no longer being the mistress of her own actions.

Chapter Seven: Restless

A week passed, then another, and finally Deirdre's morning sickness began to ease up. Life in the camp with nothing going on though, was starting to drive her insane. Little John refused to spar with her because of the pregnancy, and even picking fights with Much had lost its fun. All she was allowed to do was cook or whittle or practice her archery; the archery was more of a frustration than anything else—in the forest, she had a hard time hitting the trees, no matter how many times Allan or Robin helped her adjust her aim.

Allan, at least, seemed to be having fun; since the gang had forgiven him, she saw that his brilliant smile finally reached his eyes. He spent more and more time with Robin and was often sparring with Little John, much to Deirdre's annoyance.

One morning, bored nearly to tears, she grabbed Djaq, deciding it was time enough to visit Madeline. At least if she mentioned the wise woman's name, the gang would let her go with only Djaq as escort. She knew they were only trying to protect her, but she felt more imprisoned than cherished; even in her bed with Allan, his arm over her and the fact that he slept on the outside, was beginning to make her feel trapped.

For a while, Deirdre and Djaq walked along in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Deirdre finally spoke, unable to take the quiet any longer.

"What's going on with you and Will?"

Djaq nearly tripped, righting herself as she countered with her own question.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's going on with you and Will? You two keep making puppy-dog eyes at each other. Are you two involved?"

"We care for each other." Djaq sincerely hoped that Deirdre would just drop it, but Deirdre never really seemed to do what anyone sensible hoped she would do.

Deirdre snorted. "'We care for each other'," she mocked. "That boy worships you! He's putty in your hands! Have you even kissed him yet?" She had seen them herself, a few times, but wanted to hear it from Djaq’s lips.

Djaq’s back stiffened and she raised her chin. "Yes." The Saracen woman kept looking ahead and added nothing else to her answer.

Deirdre sighed. She was going to have to pull any information from Djaq and it was going to be like pulling sweetmeats from a child’s hands. "Has he…touched you?" Deirdre asked quietly. Boredom was making her be even more aggressive then she had been formerly.

"I…I…." Djaq stumbled over her answer.

Deirdre glanced over at her friend, noticing her discomfort, the redness that was creeping up her neck and flushing her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Djaq. It's none of my business. I'm just…bored. I’m used to shopping and practicing with my sword, and riding, and…."

"Stealing?" Djaq put in with a smile.

Deirdre grinned ruefully back. "Yes, and stealing. Ever since I started getting sick and then we found out it was because I was pregnant—well, Allan doesn't treat me the same, none of them do. I just want things to be how they were."

"You know that cannot happen. Allan loves you. He would die if something were to happen to you. And as for the baby…the way he acts, you would think he was the first man to father a child. He is happy, happier than I have ever seen him."

“I know. I guess it’s just a lot of change, and I’m not used to it. I’m used to taking care of myself.” She frowned and bit her lip.

Djaq gave her a small smile. “It will be all right. You will adjust, we all will. Give it time.”

Deirdre nodded and they completed their trip in silence.

~*~

Marian stood outside the door to the sheriff’s office, ear pressed to the small crack between the door and the frame. She kept a wary eye out for guards or maids walking the halls, but the sheriff’s mood kept all of them as far away as they could be without getting in trouble for dereliction of duty. The sheriff rarely kept guards at his door; the only time he had was during the assassination scare, when Joe Lacey’s attempts on the sheriff’s life had Vasey running scared.

She couldn’t hear the whole conversation, but what she heard was enough. “Summer taxes”, “Prince John”, and most importantly, “guards dressed as peasants”. Footsteps approached the door from within the room and Marian hastily moved away and up the hall. As Guy opened the door, she heard him say, “We’ll begin next week, Milord.” She picked up her pace as she heard the door close. Not fast enough. A moment later, Guy was close behind her, calling her name.

She pasted a smile on her face and stopped, turning to him. “Sir Guy. How pleasant to see you.”

He arched his brows at her, his posture stiff. “Is it really?”

“Of course. We are friends, are we not?”

He relaxed and gave her a small smile. “We are. What are you doing on this end of the castle?”

“I was restless, walking around.”

His smile disappeared. “It is dangerous for you to be in this part of the castle. You know better. The sheriff doesn’t trust you.”

“I’m know. I’m sorry. I just, I needed a friend to help me burn off this energy, and with Deirdre being outlawed, I came looking for you.” She smiled warmly at him.

His own smile returned. “You truly came looking for me?”

“I did. The sheriff’s door was closed, so I just kept walking. I’m sorry if it was too presumptuous of me.” She lowered her chin to her chest, playing at embarrassment to throw him off.

He stepped forward and raised her chin, searching her face. “I am flattered, Marian. Give me less than an hour and I shall be at your disposal. What would you like to do?”

“In truth, a ride sounds good. I do enjoy being outside these walls on these stifling days.”

He smiled at her and released her chin. “Then I will meet you at the stables when I am done with my business.”

“That sounds lovely, Sir Guy.” She turned and walked away, heaving a sigh of relief that her spying had not been uncovered. Yet. But she would have to be more careful. And somehow, she would have to get word to Robin, sooner rather than later, about the new delivery system for the taxes.

~*~

Madeline was once again tending to her garden when the two young women stepped from the forest; while she was unsurprised to see them, she was a bit taken off guard that they had come so soon. She smiled as the blonde woman made the sign of respect and the Saracen copied her friend.

Deirdre A' Dale was a woman of contradictions, that was certain; while she knew virtually nothing of the goings-on between men and women, she seemed intimately acquainted with those same details when it came to horses. She was completely ignorant of healing herbs, but could put those same herbs to good use in cooking or poisoning; the daughter of a lord, she would quickly dive in to help with the chores, and oddest of all, she was an extremely quick learner when she was given a task to do, but could not follow a set of directions given to her all at once to save her life.

Her friend Djaq seemed to be similar in many ways; her knowledge of healing was extensive, but she knew nothing of the workings of a woman's body outside of her moon flow and knew even less of relationships between men and women than Deirdre did. Djaq however, could follow multiple directions and was not easily distracted. At one point in the day, as she was instructing the girls in the many uses of herbs and the making of medicines, Madeline left a pot on the fire with Deirdre tending it while she and Djaq went to the forest. Deirdre wandered off in boredom after a time, and the potion burned. After scolding her completely unrepentant student, Madeline left the new concoction under Djaq's supervision, taking Deirdre with her this time to hunt down the herbs.

Even in the forest, Deirdre's boredom was not relieved—whenever some animal would rustle the leaves, the pregnant girl was on alert, but was excited, not scared. Madeline shook her head—the girl was like a filly bred too young, still wanting to run and play, rather than standing quietly with the other mares. It did not bode well if the child inside her body did not slow its mother down, and soon.

~*~

The next day, Deirdre was whittling yet another arrow. The irony was not lost on her, that she was fashioning a weapon that she could not get to work properly. She was so bored she nearly nodded off, but then the sound of a voice she had not heard in quite some time woke her from her reverie.

"Robin, I cannot stay for long. Guy is at Locksley, but I will still be missed if I am gone for any length of time," Marian was saying. Her voice sounded urgent.

"Gather 'round, everyone. Marian has news," Robin commanded. The outlaws all stopped what they were doing to come greet Marian. Deirdre set her knife on the ground and stood to embrace the woman who had become a friend when they were at Nottingham Castle together.

"Deirdre! How are you? I miss you horribly," Marian greeted, hugging the smaller woman.

"I'm well. Alive, at least, and not in residence at Locksley," Deirdre responded.

Marian frowned at her friend's less-than-enthusiastic response, but dismissed it for the moment to impart her news.

"As you know, the sheriff has been collecting more and more taxes this past spring to pay for the Black Knights and their support of Prince John's claim to the throne."

Allan raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not bein' funny, Marian, but you didn't ride all the way out 'ere to tell us that, did you?"

Marian glowered at him, but chose not to respond to his comment. "He needs to be sure that money gets where he wants it to, but the lot of you have made that task difficult for him."

Robin grinned proudly, thinking of how he and his gang vexed the sheriff.

"He is determined that the money will not be stolen this time. He means to send it out here and there, in small amounts, with guards disguised as peasants."

Robin frowned, contemplating; Deirdre spoke up, voicing his thoughts.

"So how are we to know who is a peasant and who is a guard? What does he consider a 'small amount'?" Deirdre's mind was working quickly and for the first time in a month, she was excited.

Allan turned to her, frowning. "There is no 'we', Luv. You don't need to figure out who's who since you ain't goin'."

"Of course I'm going. I'm one of your best swordsmen, and if they're guards, you'll need all the help you can get," Deirdre reasoned.

"You. Are. Not. Goin'," Allan enunciated carefully, looking pointedly at her belly after meeting her eyes.

"I don't know who you think you are, Allan A' Dale, to order me around, but I  _am_  going!"

Allan got up in her face, his temper in full swing at the thought of anything happening to Deirdre or the baby.

"I'm your 'usband, that's who I am! And the father of that child you're carryin'. I'll not be disobeyed!"

Deirdre's nostrils flared, her breathing was coming rapidly. She was just about to respond when Marian's shocked voice broke in.

"You're pregnant! Deirdre, Allan, congratulations!" Marian threw her arms around both of them, cutting off Deirdre's response, but not the glares that the couple were throwing at each other. Marian pulled Deirdre off to walk in the forest as Allan settled angrily back by the fire.

~*~

Marian and Deirdre walked for a short while before they came to a clearing where Deirdre began to pace as Marian looked on worriedly.

"Is it true? Are you carrying Allan's child?" she finally ventured a bit hesitantly.

"Yes. It's true," Deirdre spat out.

"Well, aren't you happy?"

"Marian, I haven't been happy in some time now. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Allan's sweet, but…what?"

Deirdre stopped at Marian's snort of derision.

"It didn't look like you thought he was so sweet back there."

"Yes, well, he  _does_ have an issue with bossiness."

Marian grinned. "Don't they all?" Deirdre returned Marian’s sardonic smile.

"I'm sorry, Marian. It's just that I'm not used to being kept out of the action. I'm used to planning it and executing it by myself. Ever since I came here, Allan's been bossing me around—"Eat this, drink this, put that sword down"—it's enough to drive a woman insane! I know he's only looking out for me and the baby, but… " Deirdre stopped, at a sudden loss for words.

"But you're not used to being told what to do. You're used to making your own decisions, and it doesn’t sit well following orders."

"Yes." Deirdre sounded defeated as she sat on a large boulder at the edge of the clearing.

Marian sat in the grass before her. "Believe it or not, I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes. I came to live in the forest for a bit. No one knew I was here. In fact, it was thanks to Allan that they all thought I had gone to a nunnery. Robin tried to curb me and it ate at me horribly."

"How did you get over it?"

"I threw knives."

"You what?" Deirdre had never imagined Marian to be anything other than a lady, albeit one who spoke her mind.

Marian grinned mischievously. "It's amazingly stress-relieving if you picture your sweet-heart's face on the tree you're aiming at."

Deirdre laughed at that, although his  _face_  wasn't exactly what she'd be picturing as a target.

Changing the subject, Deirdre asked, "So how are you doing these days?"

"Not bad." Marian kept her answer succinct.

"What of Guy and the sheriff? What are they up to? Besides this whole stupid idea with the taxes, I mean. Guy is not…bothering you again, is he?" Deirdre asked guiltily.

Marian did not want her friend to worry, particularly now with the news of the baby.

"No more so than usual."

"You're lying."

"I am not."

Deirdre raised a blonde eyebrow at Marian, and then crossed her arms over her chest, crossing her feet to wait for the truth.

Marian stared just as stubbornly back at Deirdre, a mountain meeting an immovable object—until Deirdre clutched her stomach and cried out in pain, bending double. Marian ran to her side, bending to try to see Deirdre's face through the mass of hair that now trailed the ground.

"Deirdre! Are you all right?" She moved aside a lock of hair to peer in at Deirdre's pain-filled face.

Deirdre nodded mutely, then cracked open one eye to peer at her friend. "It's just that…it's just…you see, the baby…the baby doesn't like it when people lie to her mother." Deirdre winked at Marian impishly, her mouth breaking into a huge grin as Marian shoved at her playfully.

"You are a…a…"

"A what, Marian? Go on, say it!"

"That was not nice!" Marian could not seem to bring herself to say anything truly bad, manners winning out over her anger at Deirdre.

Deirdre was completely unrepentant. "Neither is lying to a friend. So, what's Giz been up to?"

"Well, at first, he didn't bother me at all—spent all his time in the kitchens. Now, all of a sudden, he seems to have renewed his interest in me."

"How so?" Deirdre spoke quietly, the menace still apparent in her tone.

"Nothing really overt, other than wanting to spend time with me. Lots of time," Marian sighed in annoyance.

"Has he tried anything?"

"No, but I do worry about his sudden return of interest."

"Have you told Robin?"

"No! And neither can you. There is nothing Robin can do, and I won't have him worrying about the situation. I can handle Guy."

"You should come here. Stay with us. Robin would be over the moon if you did."

"I know, but I'm better off in Nottingham, finding out what the sheriff and Gisbourne are up to."

Deirdre gave Marian a small smile of acknowledgement.

"Shall we?" Marian inclined her head toward the path that would lead them back to the camp.

Deirdre sighed, thinking of the stubborn, over-protective husband who awaited her.

"I suppose."

~*~

Back at camp, Allan looked suspiciously over as Deirdre and Marian returned, laughing as though nothing was wrong. Marian soon left, escorted by Robin, and Allan went to talk to Deirdre; the rest of the gang melted into the forest to give them privacy.

"Deirdre?"

Deirdre had gone back to whittling her arrows for now, and looked up from the ground as Allan walked up to her. He was frowning, a look she never liked to see on his face; she much preferred his sunny grin.

"Yes, Allan?"

"So you're okay now? I mean, you ain't goin' on any of these raids, and there's an end to it."

"Allan, I'm used to running things myself. I'm not used to being told what to do."

"You do remember agreein' to obey me this time, dontcha?"

Deirdre looked at him mockingly and he added quickly, "You know I'm only lookin' out for you and the babe. Maybe if you wasn't pregnant…"

"If I wasn't pregnant, you'd still have an issue with me going and you know it."

Allan gave her a small, guilty smile of agreement, then sat on his haunches next to her. "It ain't for a week anyway, and hopefully we won't be gone for long. You'll 'ave supper waitin' when we get back?"

Deirdre smiled at him, leaning over to fasten her mouth to his for a moment. "Of course I will, Mo Chroí."

Putting the knife safely away, she pushed him onto his butt, and then climbed into his lap, feeling him harden beneath her as she deepened the kiss. "So tell me about this plan. Maybe I could at least help with the details of it."

"Later," Allan growled, picking her up and carrying her to their bower.


	8. The Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Deirdre pregnant, Allan naturally doesn't want her to come along on a raid. She'll listen, of course. Won't she?

Chapter Eight: The Raid

A week later, on the day the gang was set to intercept the first of the sheriff's new disguised deliveries, Deirdre woke up and for the first time didn't feel even slightly sick. Although her morning sickness had eased in the past weeks, she had still had to stay abed for a bit when she woke up to let her stomach settle; this morning, she felt completely normal. She rolled over, looking guiltily at Allan's sleeping face. She loved the way his lashes fanned his cheeks when he slept; not wanting to disturb him, she climbed quietly out of their bed and out of the bower.

Much stretched and sniffed, wondering who on earth could be cooking or if he was having a dream; he could have sworn he smelled bacon and eggs. His eyes widened in surprise as he poked his head out from the covers and looked over to the cook-fire to see Deirdre scooping the eggs and meat onto plates.

Robin crashed into the wall of Little John's back as the taller man stopped, nonplussed, his eyes taking in the sight of Deirdre with the food; Will and Djaq also looked at Deirdre askance. Deirdre stood and took a plate to Allan, ignoring the gang's stares; she nudged him awake, watching as the realization came to his eyes and he sat up, one eyebrow cocked.

"So you decided to call off your attack on my best bits today?" He had considered moving to the inside of their bed, by the wall of rock to avoid being stepped on every morning by Deirdre's hasty exits from their bower, but he didn't like being blocked in.

"I don't know as I'd call them your  _best_ bits, but yes. I'm feeling better. Thank you for asking," Deirdre teased.

Allan sat up and reached for the plate, but rather than eating the food, he set it aside to pull Deirdre to him, kissing her deeply until her eyes closed and she sighed in contentment. Having been allowed to help with the planning seemed to have calmed Deirdre's need to be in the thick of the raid, much to Allan's relief. He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her close again, his mouth feathering kisses all over her face before meeting her lips again. As they broke from the kiss, Deirdre laid her head on Allan's chest, listening to his heart slow back down as she worried her lower lip.

~*~

Allan was strapping on his sword a couple of hours later as Deirdre sat, whittling yet one more arrow for the gang's arsenal. Robin and the others were also preparing to raid the sheriff's tax revenues. Ever since Deirdre and Allan's fight of the week before, and her subsequent chat with Marian, Deirdre had seemed to be resigned to her fate—that she could no longer go into dangerous situations. Allan held out his hand to her; Deirdre put down the knife and the arrow and then took it, allowing him to pull her up and into his arms. He kissed her soundly, holding her to him, and then whispering in her ear.

"We'll be back by nightfall. Be good."

Deirdre swallowed, gazing into his eyes, so warm with his love for her; she knew those eyes were going to turn to ice if she did what she planned.

"Be safe, Allan. I love you."

Much rolled his eyes. "Are we going to have to endure this before  _every_ raid or is today special?"

Allan and Deirdre smiled at each other and broke apart, hands lingering for just a moment before he was gone with the rest of them.

Deirdre sat and took up her whittling again; she had decided before that no matter what Allan said, she would go on the raid with them, but now she felt guilty about lying to him. She would stay here like a good wife, doing what was expected of her. She managed to convince herself for nearly an hour that she could be obedient.

~*~

Along one of the many smaller roads that led off the North Road, the farmer was driving his cart warily through the shadowed woods. He realized that if he were found out, his life could very well be forfeit; even if Robin Hood let him go, the sheriff would probably see him hanged for his failure, or at the very least, flogged severely. He peered nervously into the trees around him, just wanting to be out into the sunlight again.

Allan stepped out from behind the large oak he had been hiding behind, holding up his hand in front of the pony that pulled the farmer's cart.

"Well now, what 'ave we 'ere?" he asked.

The farmer watched anxiously as more men materialized from the woods; he recognized Allan, and hoped fervently that Allan wouldn't remember him—no such luck.

"Since when do you farm, Daniel?"

Daniel stuttered. "I…I…please Allan, the sheriff'll 'ave my 'ide if I come back empty handed."

Allan smiled at the man understandingly. "Now, Daniel, I thought that was the whole idea. You bring something away from Nottingham and come back with nothin'. Ain't that right?"

Robin stepped forward. "Daniel, is it?"

The young man nodded and Robin continued. "You see, in most cases, we only take a tenth of what people have if they're honest with us. But the sheriff…well, he's another case entirely. We take everything. You can run away to another town if you like—we'll leave you the pony, but I'm afraid we have to take all of the money."

Suddenly, there was a commotion further down the road, a cry and the ring of metal on metal; Daniel was temporarily forgotten as the outlaws ran to see what was happening.

~*~

Deirdre had decided to follow the gang after much deliberation and pacing and arguing with herself. Something about the sheriff's plan was bothering her; even though he was trying to disguise the tax money, she didn't think that he would send it totally unprotected. Robin and the gang had disagreed, arguing that the lack of guards would complete the disguise. She stayed well back from where Robin and Allan and the others had accosted the young farmer and soon her instincts were rewarded as she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. Guards—dressed in forest green to blend in, but there nonetheless. She snuck up behind one man, dropping him silently with the butt of her knife to the back of his neck; another guard was not so easy though, and disarmed her, turning on her with his sword drawn. She quickly backpedaled, trying to get out her own sword, but tripped over a root and landed in the arms of another soldier, who grabbed her and held her tight. He raised a surprised eyebrow as he felt the softness of her breasts beneath his arm.

"What have we here, Stephen?" asked the approaching guard; he had put his sword away as he saw that their assailant was captured by his partner.

"Feels an awful lot like a woman to me, Henry. What say we find out for sure, eh?"

Henry reached his hand toward Deirdre's top; Deirdre kicked up, landing the man on his back before stomping the shin of Stephen and biting his hand. Stephen yowled in pain, holding his wounded hand and Deirdre took the opportunity to pull out her sword. In moments, she was fighting both guards.

~*~

Allan raced up the road toward the sound of the scuffle; as he topped the hill, he stopped for a moment, horror-struck at the scene that greeted him. Deirdre. Fighting off two guards. Swords flashing in the filtered sunlight. Almost immediately there was a cry of pain and Allan launched himself into the fray as he watched Deirdre collapse onto the forest floor. The rest of the gang followed quickly as more guards appeared from the trees, only to be beaten and chased off by Robin's men.

Allan was on his knees at Deirdre's side an instant later; he rolled her over to see her bloody hands covering her stomach. As though in a nightmare, he watched the blood pour from between her finger-tips. Dimly, he was aware of Robin yelling to Will to go and let Madeline know that they were on their way to her home; aware of Djaq gently laying Deirdre on her back and moving Deirdre's hands from the wound so that she could get a better look at it. As soon as Djaq moved the shirt, a raw, gaping wound was revealed that seemed to be pumping Deirdre's blood out too fast.

Allan was frozen with shock as he watched Deirdre's pain-filled eyes flutter, then close; her breathing become slower and shallower. Djaq was yelling for moss for some reason. A moment later, Much handed her some and she packed it into Deirdre's wounds, then tore off one of her arm-bands; Deirdre made no sound as Little John gently lifted her so that Djaq could tie the strip of cloth around the wound, holding the moss tightly. Luckily, the morning had become unseasonably chilly and the gang had all brought their cloaks for the waiting. Little John's cloak became a stretcher, while Much covered Deirdre with his own; suddenly Robin was there in Allan's face, telling him to stand up, that they had to get Deirdre to Madeline's quickly. He came out of his stupor long enough to grab a corner of the cloak and lift with the others, Djaq going ahead to keep an eye out for any further danger.

The trip to Madeline's cottage seemed to take forever. Allan watched in growing fear as Deirdre's face became paler and paler and she alternated between shivering and sweating. Finally they arrived and the healer took stock of the situation Will had described to her. She shooed the men outside as soon as they set Deirdre on the sturdy table in the one room of the home, and she and Djaq fell immediately to the task of trying to save Deirdre's life.

Outside, Allan stood, still as rock, staring at the door, his face ashen. Robin came to him, his face also reflecting his shock as well as his concern for his friend.

"Allan," Robin spoke quietly, his hands on Allan's shoulders.

After a moment, Allan focused on Robin's face, his own face drawn, eyes wide in fear.

"She was supposed to be at the camp. She was supposed to be making supper and staying safe. Why wasn't she at the camp?" Suddenly Allan's fear turned to anger. Running a hand through his hair, he began to pace. "I told 'er to stay there, but no, not Deirdre! Stubborn, foolish…if she dies, I'll kill 'er. I'll never forgive 'er. And the babe…" Allan's tirade came to an abrupt stop, as did he. "Jazus, Robin, what if somethin's 'appened to the babe? She'll be 'eartbroke!"

Robin looked at his friend in sympathy, the only one in the group who could possibly understand a portion of what Allan was going through, having watched his love die in a cave not far away, before miraculously coming back to life.

"It'll be all right, Allan. She's with Madeline and Djaq now, and they're both gifted healers. If anyone can help her, they can."

The hours passed slowly. Eventually, Will and Little John went hunting, Much got a fire going and made supper. Robin brought a piece of venison to Allan, knowing he would refuse it. The moon had risen when Madeline stepped from the cottage and was immediately accosted by Allan.

"Is she all right, Mother? Will she live? What of the babe?" In his anxiety, Allan never even realized that he called Madeline by the same name of respect that Deirdre gave her.

Madeline sighed in exhaustion. It had taken her the day to stop the bleeding and close the wound, and they had had to sew some of Deirdre's insides as well before they could close the wound on her flesh.

"Allan, she lost so much blood. If she makes it through the night, she may survive. I won't know about the babe for some time yet; that all depends on if Deirdre lives. You should go to her, stay with her."

Allan shuffled dejectedly into the cabin; once he was inside, Robin turned to the healer.

"Madeline?"

"I told him true, Robin. Djaq is skilled and we've done all we can for now. The rest is up to Deirdre."


	9. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deirdre is healing--physically, at least. But she's not the only one hurting.

Chapter Nine: Pain

Allan sat by Deirdre's side, feeling more lost than he had since Tom had died. He was sad and scared and angry.  _Why did she 'ave to come? Why couldn't she just listen and do as she was told for once?_  Deirdre's face was still pale, her golden lashes looked almost dark against her high cheekbones. Allan stared at her features as though he had to memorize them, his fingers intertwined, his nose and mouth resting against his thumbs, elbows splayed on the table. Tears tracked unashamedly down his face. The fire crackled and popped, but all he could focus on was the shallow breathing of his wife as she struggled to live. The coppery smell of blood was overwhelming in the little room. He stayed in the chair all night, praying harder than he had ever prayed in his life, to any god who would listen.

~*~

It was in the small hours of the morning, just before the cock crowed, when Deirdre's eyelids fluttered. She drew in a sharp breath at the pain in her stomach—the sound awakening Allan, who had fallen asleep with his head on his arms. He knocked over the chair in his haste to rise, to get closer to his wife as she fought back to consciousness.

"Deirdre?" He breathed out her name the way he had breathed the prayers until sleep had claimed him. There were dark circles under his eyes to match the ones under Deirdre's.

"Allan." Her voice was little more than a whisper of sound, but it was the best sound he had heard in the last day. He wept in relief, shoulders shaking, head bowed, and then looked up, reaching over to push her hair behind her ears as she stared at him through half-open eyes.

"What…?" Her voice was scratchy and Allan reached for the cup above her head. He helped her to sit up enough to drink a sip, but that effort was too much for her and she coughed, choking on the liquid. Allan helped her lay back down and then dried her lips and her chin.

"You're all right now, Luv. Everythin's goin' to be all right." Allan wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her more, but it didn't matter; Deirdre was already back asleep.

~*~

Hours later, Deirdre's eyelids fluttered again, and opened to once more view the concerned face of her husband. Her throat felt dry, her tongue too thick and her stomach was on fire, but she managed to croak out his name.

"Allan."

"I'm 'ere, Luv."

"You're unhurt," she whispered in wonder.

"Of course I am. Why would I be hurt?"

"I thought that…I mean, I…" Deirdre began coughing and Allan quickly and gently helped her sit up, giving her a bit of tea.

Madeline came bustling in then, carrying a load of new-picked herbs for drying.

"So our patient has decided to stay in the land of the living a bit longer, I see." Despite her sarcastic words, she was pleased that Deirdre was awake so soon—it was a good sign. Deirdre was strong, but she would still need all of that strength if she was to make it through.

Allan looked over Deirdre's head at Madeline, the hope shining from his eyes. "My Deirdre's a fighter," he responded to the healer proudly.

"Lay her down; let's have a look at that wound, eh?"

Allan did as he was instructed, laying Deirdre back down on the table.

Madeline pushed up the clean shift they had put Deirdre in the night before, exposing her belly and the raw wound there before covering her lower half with a blanket.

"You know most men die from such wounds." The older woman looked up at Deirdre's face and winked. "It's a good thing you're not a man."

Deirdre glanced up at Allan, who was too grateful to see his wife alive to take issue with the healer's words. She looked back at Madeline. "And the baby? Is the baby…?" Deirdre could not bring herself to finish the sentence.

Madeline met Deirdre's gaze steadily. "I don't know yet, lass. You haven't passed it and that's good, but you have to regain your strength or you could still lose it."

Deirdre swallowed convulsively, but refused to let the tears that were threatening spill over. She blinked rapidly, licking her lips and watching Madeline's face for some sign of what the woman was thinking.

Madeline pursed her lips thoughtfully as she looked over her patient, but kept her emotions in check so they wouldn’t show on her face. The girl was conscious, but the wound would need constant attending if it was to heal properly; she could still catch a fever from infection and die.

"I'll be back," she stated, checking first to see that Deirdre was tucked into the blanket, with her wound and some of her belly the only things exposed.

She came back in a moment later, toting a jug with Little John trailing embarrassedly behind her.

"Hold her feet, John. Allan, hold her hands above her head, like." Mystified, Allan did as he was told, looking in curiosity toward Little John, who shrugged, placing his hands on Deirdre's ankles.

Madeline took the jug and uncorked it with her teeth. "This is goin' to hurt, lass, but it needs to be done to clean the wound." With that, she poured the contents onto Deirdre's belly, using a clean cloth to soak up the excess and pressing the cloth to the wound; the smell of the fermented beer filled the room.

Deirdre had already felt as though her belly was on fire; this was like the Greek fire she had heard of, burning hotter than ever. She cried out in pain and tried to move, to get away, but Allan and Little John were holding her down and Madeline was pressing the cloth to the hole in her belly. Finally, blessedly, she passed out.

~*~

Allan sat by Deirdre's side all day, bathing her forehead with cool water and trying to squeeze some willow tea past her lips to combat the fever. She faded in and out of consciousness, moving restlessly on the table; after one particularly bad episode where she almost fell off, they decided to move her to a pallet closer to the floor. She murmured, mostly incoherently, in a mixture of Irish and English. When she cried out Guy's name in the middle of a string of Irish, Allan was nearly consumed by jealousy, only managing to catch himself with the terrifying reality that it wouldn't matter if she had feelings for Guy if she died.  _Besides,_  he consoled himself,  _she said she 'ated Guy for torturing me. It's not like she's probly sayin' anythin' nice about 'im._ With his limited Irish, he could have sworn he heard the word "devil" anyway.

~*~

The next morning, the gang was sent back to the camp by Madeline, with the exception of Djaq and Allan.

"Maybe the people don't know where to find you, but they don't expect to find you at the witch's cottage," she counseled when they would have stayed.

Will and Much stayed at the back of the group, their sad looks saying it all; Will cast longing looks Djaq's way, but the couple was still wary of showing their affection in front of the others. Little John pulled Allan into a bear hug.

"It'll be all right." He spoke to the top of Allan's head before releasing the younger man.

Robin locked arms with Allan and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good luck, my friend."

"Thanks Robin. We'll come back when we can."

Robin nodded his assent and the gang took off into the woods.

~*~

Marian was walking through Nottingham town when Guy accosted her; there was no other word for the way he cut her in front of her as she walked. Marian pulled up short to avoid crashing into him, a frown of displeasure on her face.

"Marian," Guy greeted her succinctly.

"Sir Guy," Marian returned, shading her eyes with her right hand as she looked up at his face.

"What are you doing in town?"

Marian glanced at the basket on her left arm. "Shopping."

Guy flushed in embarrassment at his faux pas. "Of course. I meant, isn't it a bit hot for shopping today? Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the castle?"

"The castle is cooler, but I prefer the fresh air," Marian retorted.

"Do you mind some company?" Guy asked.

"Not at all."  _I would prefer Robin, of course,_  she thought.

"Let me help you with that." Guy reached for her basket, removing it from her arm deftly, and handing it to one of his guards.

Marian sighed in annoyance as Guy took her elbow to guide her through the town. Her plans for a relaxing day, and maybe some charity work, were gone in a Guy-colored flash.

~*~

For the next three days, Deirdre faded in and out of consciousness; finally, on the fourth day, she awoke and her eyes were clear. Allan was, as usual, by her side, and noticed the difference immediately, calling for Madeline and Djaq to come and see.

Madeline grabbed a cloth from the bucket of clean water kept by Deirdre’s pallet at all times. She gently swabbed the healing salve off of the wound, then bent over it, poking gently and sniffing. “There’s no more infection.” She placed her hand lower, over Deirdre’s womb, closing her eyes and reaching out with her senses. She could almost feel the little life pulsing there, almost see the glow of it in her mind’s eye. She opened her eyes, smiling encouragingly at the three anxious faces around her.

“The babe seems to be well. So far. But you must still rest and get some nourishment. Allan, a few fat rabbits would not be a bad idea.”

Allan hesitated, his reluctance to leave his wife stamped on his face.

Madeline sighed. She understood, but the man’s stubbornness was nearly as strong as his wife’s. “Go. You want her and the babe to heal. They need meat. Djaq and I will keep an eye on her.”

Allan frowned, but left.

“Djaq, put on some water to boil and start some herbs in it. I want a good healing broth to add the rabbit meat to when Allan gets back.”

Djaq nodded and hurried off to prepare the broth. She couldn’t cook, but healing broths were different and came easily to her, especially with the coaching Madeline had been giving her.

Madeline gathered a few of the herbs and put them in her salve bowl, glancing over at the door before casting her gaze to Deirdre. She was relatively certain Allan would not be returned so soon, but she didn’t want him to hear her words. “You are a fool.”

Deirdre blinked, eyes owl wide. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be. You were a fool to chase around the woods with a sword and take on sheriff’s guards in your condition. Did you not think of what could happen to your babe?” Madeline was crushing the herbs, trying not to let her anger infuse them. It was not easy.

Deirdre closed her eyes, her cheeks red and not from fever. “I did not. I just…I thought I could help.”

“Deirdre, you must take better care of yourself. I’ve told you that being pregnant does not make you an invalid. I suppose I should have told you that you do have to take _some_ precautions, though. I should have known better than to think you would have a lick of common sense. Every action you take now is taken for the two of you, and one of you has no say in what the other does, nor any real defense should your actions cause harm. You will get better, and Lord willing, you will still give birth to a healthy child when the time is right. But you must change your ways. You can still be strong and not be foolish.”

Tears were tracking down Deirdre’s cheeks. Madeline ignored the twinge of guilt. The girl needed to hear the truth.

“I’m sorry.” The words were little more than a whisper.

Madeline sighed and rubbed the salve onto Deirdre’s physical wound; then bent to wipe her tears and kiss her cheeks. “Child, you made a mistake. Out of a feeling of duty or love, no doubt, but a mistake. You are lucky it has not cost you more, but there I am still worried for the babe. The Goddess has given you a gift, and you should not take that lightly. If you can keep the wee one from passing for the next few days, you should be right as rain. Just promise me to take better care of yourself and this one.” Madeline took one of Deirdre’s hands, placing it on the baby, and placing her own hand over Deirdre’s.

~*~

Allan and Djaq were sparring with their swords in the clearing to relieve the boredom. There was nearly nothing to do now that Deirdre was healing; Allan's relief was palpable, his cheeky grin and normal good nature returned. Madeline bade them to come and eat as the sun began its descent. Allan grabbed a plate and went to sit by Deirdre, trying to feed her, but she demanded to be allowed to hold her own plate and feed herself; Madeline smiled, pleased with her patient's progress. After the meal, Djaq and Madeline went to pull weeds from the little garden before the light was gone, while Allan sat by Deirdre's side. She turned to face her husband, noting with satisfaction that he no longer looked so tired and drawn.

"Allan, I'm sorry."

"What?" She had spoken so softly, he honestly had not heard her.

"I said, I'm sorry. For following you that day."

Allan's features immediately hardened. "Look, we don't need to talk about that just now."

"I do."

"Deirdre, I have a lot of things to say to you about that day, but I'll not speak of it until you're well."

Deirdre was silent a moment before forging ahead anyway, determined to at least defend herself before Allan got his chance to yell at her; he should at least know what had been going through her mind, although she decided that now was not the time to say "I told you so" about the guards.

"I had a bad feeling about the plan from the beginning. I didn't know what it was that was bothering me so much, so I followed you."

Allan sighed as Deirdre spoke despite his earlier statement. "Deirdre…"

"Allan. I know what I did was wrong, but I would do it again if I thought you were in danger. I followed you as I said, staying well back because I knew you'd be mad if you saw me. I figured that if there was no danger, if my feeling was nothing, then there was no harm in me following you. If there was danger though, I would be able to warn you. I was wrong."

Allan glanced over at Deirdre in surprise—this had to be a monumental moment in history for his wife to admit being wrong.

Deirdre continued on, not seeming to notice Allan's surprise.

"Now mind, I was right about the danger."

Allan smiled ruefully.  _Of course she's right even in admitting being wrong._

Deirdre was staring at her feet, crossed at the ankles in front of her. "When I first saw the guards, hanging back in the forest, I thought to call out to all of you, but they were too close to where I was and I would've been dead before the words had a chance to land on your ears. So I snuck up on the first guard and took him out with no problem. The second guard turned at just the wrong moment and caught my arm, and bad luck, his partner was right there behind me. I was fighting for my life at that point with no time to shout out."

Allan looked at his wife appraisingly; her reasoning sounded possible, but she had still disobeyed him, and gotten herself and the babe nearly killed in the process. There was no way he was letting her off the hook so easily; she would have to learn  _now_  that she could not just do whatever she liked anymore or else the next time, it could very well mean her death. He hated to do it, especially when she was sitting there still weak, but he hardened his features, frowning at her.

"I told you, Deirdre, I'll not talk about it now. But when you're better, you  _are_ in trouble." He held up a hand when she would have protested. "It doesn't matter that you meant well, you endangered the babe right along with yourself. You can't just think of yourself anymore—those days are over. Come on now, let's get you to bed."

With that, he picked her up and brought her to lie on her pallet. As he had since she had regained consciousness, Allan slept on the opposite side of the cottage.

~*~

**A/N: Well Folks, looks like our Deirdre is out of the woods-physically; she's in big trouble with Allan, though. For those who have read this before, you may notice a bit of fleshing out of at least one scene. Please let me know what you think-the good, the bad, and the ugly. Thanks as always to those who review, especially the detailed ones-it's good to know what works and what doesn't. :)**


	10. Hormones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hormones will drive a pregnant woman crazy, sometimes literally, and Deirdre's already halfway there to begin with.

Chapter Ten: Hormones

Deirdre watched Allan walk across the room and settle on a pallet as far away as he could be and still be in the cottage; he turned his back to her as he lay down. He had done the same thing every night since she had regained consciousness. She lay on her own pallet, completely miserable. After long hours, she finally fell into a restless sleep.

In the darkness of very early morning, she crawled across the floor to lie beside him, unable to take his distance any more. Allan rolled over in his sleep, throwing an arm over Deirdre's waist as he pulled her close. He nuzzled her neck and pushed his hips against her bottom; Deirdre smiled in relief as she felt his erection against her flanks. Without warning, he suddenly gave a cry and jumped up, running from the room as if the very Devil himself was after him.

Deirdre lay for a moment, eyes wide in alarm, before pulling herself up. With the aid of Djaq and Madeline, who had been awakened by the noise, she went to go see what was wrong. The moonlight revealed Allan pacing frantically up and down the little swatch of grass before the hut. As he saw the women exit the house, he stopped short at the end of the garden, running a hand through his hair in agitation. A breeze kicked up, tugging gently at their clothes, smelling of rain.

"Allan?" Deirdre called, the confusion evident in her voice. "What's the matter with you?"

Allan swallowed, looking quickly away from the women. "Nothin'. It's nothin'. Just a nightmare, I guess. Go on back inside. I’ll be along in a bit." He watched as they shuffled back into the cottage, Deirdre looking back over her shoulder at him. He couldn’t see her expression, but knew her enough to know that she probably wasn’t buying it.

How could he ever explain the real reason he had run so quickly from the hut, though? Before Deirdre had regained consciousness, it had been very easy to be solicitous, to show her affection in an almost fraternal way. Now that she was up and around a bit more, and much more like her old self, his emotions—and his body—were far more volatile when he was near her.

On the one hand, Allan wanted to beat some sense into her, but he would never raise his hand to a woman, least of all one he loved. On the other hand, he had come so close to losing her that it truly frightened him, and he wanted to bury himself in her body over and over, to feel her tighten around him and call his name as he filled her. He wanted the comfort of her naked body under his, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him as she held him and told him that she loved him. These were things Allan could never say aloud though, particularly not in front of anyone else, but not even to Deirdre, much as he loved her.

He had almost lost control tonight when she had come to him in his sleep. He had thought at first that it was a dream—albeit a pleasant one—but when he had felt the soft flesh of her bottom against his erection, he had come quickly awake and run from what he had almost done. He would not touch her that way until she was completely healed and there was no chance of harming her or the babe. He decided right then that he would go back to camp where Deirdre would be safe from his lust.

~*~

It was just after breakfast when Allan made his announcement. Deirdre sat looking at him open-mouthed, her lower lip trembling slightly; she refused to let the tears she felt behind her eyes get loose.

"I see," was all she said. It was all she could seem to say. She would not make a scene. She would not carry on or try to get him to stay. She had not believed Allan's story of a nightmare for one minute. He had been so angry with her recently, and so distant, treating her with the same kindness he would a stranger, but no more. She knew the problem, but not its reason—her husband didn't want her anymore.

~*~

The morning breeze was damp, and gray clouds scudded across the sky. Allan and Djaq stood before Deirdre and Madeline as they said their good-byes.

Deirdre hugged Djaq. “Thank you for everything. I’ll see you soon?”

Djaq pulled away and nodded. “Of course. I will check on you in a few days.”

Deirdre moved to Allan, more unsure of herself with him than she had ever been. She reached to hug him, but he grasped her hands, holding her at arm’s length and leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

“You do as Madeline instructs,” he admonished.

Deirdre nodded. “Allan?”

“Yeah?”

No “yeah, Luv”, just “yeah”. She swallowed miserably. “Nothing. I’m tired. I think I’ll go lie down for a bit.” She turned and walked into the cottage, then turned back once she was safely hidden in the shadows to watch as Allan and Djaq said their farewells to Madeline.

She wanted to see Allan for as long as she could. Djaq was speaking, saying they would come back in a few days to check on Deirdre, and then she heard Allan's voice, and his words broke her heart.

"She's the best woman around, ain't she?" he asked, smiling down at Djaq. Djaq returned his smile.

Deirdre closed her eyes as the tears finally began to fall.

~*~

The days passed and though Deirdre healed physically, Madeline was worried about how sad the younger woman seemed. Not even a visit by Allan and Djaq a week later cheered her up. After their second visit, Madeline decided to confront her charge; they were in the garden, pulling weeds just after sunrise. Never one to sugar-coat things, Madeline spoke.

"So what's going on in that empty cavern atop your neck?"

Deirdre had been focused on her task—the less she thought these days, the better. Allan had been kind on his visits, but still acted brotherly to her, while he laughed and joked easily with Djaq. The pair never stayed overnight. Deirdre found that it was better not to think about why, nor about what they were doing when they were not visiting.

She sniffed and swiped at her face, smearing it with mud. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, for a woman who not only survived a sword stroke the way you did, but is also carrying her husband's child—the first, at that—you are awfully mopey. I should think you'd be happy. You're young, you're—relatively speaking—healthy. What's got you so down in the face?"

Deirdre hesitated, but looking over at the older woman's expression, knew she would never get away with lying to her.

"It's just that…Allan…well, Allan…"

Madeline sighed. "Spit it out, child, or we'll be here all day!"

"Allan doesn't love me anymore. He loves Djaq." Deirdre nearly choked saying the words aloud; they seemed so much worse than when they were rattling around in her brain.

Madeline looked at her incredulously. "I didn't see any wounds to your head, but maybe I should check again! That man was half-dead with worry when they brought you here! Don't be daft!"

Deirdre swallowed miserably. "Maybe he still cared then, but not anymore."

"Lord, girl. I have never seen a man more devoted to his wife." Madeline reached out to wipe a few tears that had slipped from Deirdre’s eyes.

"Then why didn't he stay?"

Madeline couldn't answer that—Allan had never said anything, and she still could not understand why he had left.

"Perhaps he was bored." Madeline almost bit her tongue, but was too late; the words had escaped.

"You see?” Deirdre struggled to jump to her feet, nearly falling back to the ground in her haste. “I can't stay around for another visit, Madeline. I'll pack my things and be gone."

Madeline pushed against the ground to stand and face Deirdre. "And where'll you go, pregnant and still healing from a killing stroke?"

"Promise you won't tell Allan?"

Madeline sighed. Deirdre would never tell her if she didn’t give her word to be silent. "I promise."

"I thought I could go to see your cousin. You said she lives up in Scarborough? She'll be able to help me with birthing the baby and maybe I can help her with whatever needs doing in exchange."

Madeline put a hand on Deirdre’s arm. "You should stay. Talk to Allan."

Deirdre stepped back and shook her head. "No. If I talk to him, I'll beg him to love me again, to not love Djaq, and I won't do that. If she is what he wants, I'll not ask him to be with me instead."

"And what makes you think that he loves Djaq?"

"I heard him tell her."

"Oh." There was really nothing to say to that, except the few choice words she would have for the man. "Maybe you mis-heard him?"

"No."

"So then I guess there's nothing I can say to keep you here?"

"No. I'll leave right after we break our fast."

~*~

The last two weeks had been a nightmare for Marian as Guy made a nuisance of himself. Everywhere she was, he was; she barely got a moment's peace. She was walking through the halls of the castle one evening when she ran into him again.

"Marian." He smiled as he walked towards her.

"Guy." Marian did her best to not look like she wanted to run in the opposite direction. She was Robin's only person on the inside; she knew that the information she gave to him was important—more important than her comfort.

"Are you busy today?"

Marian's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, trying desperately to come up with something that she had to do, but Guy moved in quickly on her brief pause.

"Good. I should like it very much if you would accompany me to Locksley." Guy noticed her hesitation and decided to play on her weakness. "Thornton has been asking about you—he misses you."

Marian stared at Guy, nonplussed, then smiled. "Of course. I should like to see Thornton."

Guy did not miss the subtle insinuation that the butler was the only reason she was agreeing to go. He smiled crookedly, a smile which disappeared as soon as she passed him to head toward the stables.

~*~

Deirdre shouldered her small pack as she walked along the deer-paths. She wore the outfit she had been stabbed in, the hole neatly stitched, the blood washed out. The pants made walking easier and she had also decided to bind her breasts and put her hair up under a cap; it was safer to look like a young man when walking alone. Thankfully, her little baby bulge could easily be mistaken for slight over-indulgence at this point. She carried the dress that Madeline had given her, as well as some food, in the pack. Her eyes were troubled, but dry as she walked along, trying desperately not to think of the loss of Allan's love. If he wanted someone else, she loved him enough to let him go.

~*~

Allan picked up some small stones from near the hearth and began heaving them one at a time toward the entrance to the camp, his brows drawn, his mood black. _I'm nearly as bloody moody as Much._

"Ow!" Much's exclamation rang out as he caught one of the rocks on the side of his face. Having called out and received no answer, he had tried to dodge inside in between rounds, but had misjudged. Allan still didn't notice, continuing his motion until Much grabbed his arm.

"What is wrong with you! Allan!" Much now grabbed both of Allan's shoulders, forcing the other man to look at him; the misery etched in his eyes had Much's anger cooling in sympathy.

Allan's eyebrows drew together. "What 'appened to your face?" he asked earnestly, noticing the blood trickling from a cut on Much's right cheek.

Much blew out a breath. "Never mind that. Here, help me build up the fire. The others are at the drop-off near Clun, so it's up to us to make supper."

Allan grunted in acknowledgement before rising to his feet to gather some wood. He knelt by the fire, building it up as Much knelt nearby, preparing the food. After a time, Much, never one to stand silence, spoke up. "You know, it could be worse. At least she's okay."

Allan kept poking at the fire. "Yeah, I know."

"So what's got you so sad then?"

"You wouldn't understand, Much. And you don't really want to know."

"Well of course I want to know or I wouldn't have asked. And what makes you so high and mighty that you think I wouldn't understand? I know about love, you know," he added in a wounded tone.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya."

Much looked at Allan, urging him to continue.

"I miss 'er."

"That's it? That's what I wouldn't understand?" Much began laughing, only to be cut off by Allan's angry voice.

"I miss 'er and I want to lie with 'er and I'm afraid I'll hurt 'er 'cause she's still wounded and that don't matter 'cause all I can think about is how good it feels when I'm inside 'er.

Allan's tirade silenced Much, whose face turned beet red. When Allan spoke again, his voice was quieter.

"So that's why I 'ave to stay away from Madeline's as much as possible. I feel like an animal when I go there and I see 'er. I just want 'er well and home."

Much had always thought of Allan as too happy-go-lucky by far, and after his betrayal had thought of him as selfish; the longing in Allan's voice as he spoke words of such selflessness had Much reassessing that viewpoint.

"She'll be home soon. I'm sure of it," Much reassured, going back to chopping the rabbit he had caught on the way back from the drop off.

Allan gave him a small smile of thanks.


	11. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes looking for the runaway mom-to-be.

Chapter Eleven: The Hunt

Madeline couldn't take it anymore—the more she thought about it, the more she believed that Deirdre was mistaken about Allan's feelings. No man looked at his wife the way that one did and then strayed. She stuffed the weeds she had been pulling into her pocket, wiping the dirt off onto her thighs, and then pushed herself up until she was standing.

Striding purposefully to the front of the house, she reached inside quickly for her walking stick, closing the door to keep the animals out. Luckily, Allan and Djaq had told her where to find the camp just in case there was a need. Madeline headed into the forest, the sudden cool darkness after the sunny, cheery little meadow matched her mood perfectly.

* * *

 

Deirdre shivered at the sudden drop in temperature as the sun, which had been dappling a few leaves, disappeared; the wind coming from the north cooled things even more and made the branches creak. Small animals scurried for cover; a storm was definitely coming.

* * *

 

Arriving back at camp, the gang was confronted by a confusing scene—Allan and Much holding a civil conversation while they made supper together. Robin, John, Will, and Djaq collapsed in exhaustion into seats by the fire. Much scooped the plates and Allan handed them to his friends as they looked at him sidelong, sharing looks of puzzlement among themselves. When everyone had their plates and all were eating, Allan spoke.

"Look, I know I been a bit out o' sorts lately…"

"No! You?" piped up Robin.

Allan shot him a sardonic look, but Robin was unapologetic.

"I'm just sayin', I'm gonna stop that now. Deirdre and the babe are both gonna be fine, so no problems, right?"

The others all looked at him, nodding as he met each of their glances in turn. As if on cue, the alarm went off and the outlaws scurried away to see what they had caught.

* * *

 

At the trap, Madeline was hanging upside down, holding her skirt between her legs to protect her modesty, and cursing up a storm. As Robin laughingly let her down, she lashed out at the group.

"Whose idea was that? You could've told an old woman about it, you know, you deformed offspring of a drunken dung beetle! I'll tan your worthless hides and wear them as coats to keep me warm in the winter! I'll turn you into legless rabbits and make a stew of you!"

Allan, Much and Little John hid, wide-eyed, behind the others, and then Allan noticed that Deirdre was not with the healer and he stepped to the front.

"Where's Deirdre?" he asked nervously.

"That's why I'm here, you bloody fool! She thinks…" Madeline stopped. She had promised Deirdre she wouldn't tell Allan. She crooked her finger at Robin, drawing him off to the side as Allan stood staring in impatience. She whispered Deirdre's confession in Robin's ear.

"What!" Robin looked to the woman to be sure she had spoken right.

"Go on, you tell 'im." She nodded toward Allan as she spoke to Robin. "She made me promise not to."

Robin sighed, and called Allan over to him. He leaned in close as he spoke.

"Deirdre has got a notion that you don't love her anymore, that you love Djaq instead. She's decided to go to Scarborough."

"What!" Allan's surprise mirrored Robin's, to be quickly replaced by anger and then worry. "We 'ave to find 'er. Now."

"We're with you, my friend." Robin clapped a hand on Allan's shoulder. "Thank you for telling us this, Madeline. When did she leave?"

"This morning."

"Rest here for as long as you like. We'll be back soon. You're sure she headed for Scarborough?"

"As sure as anyone can be about something Deirdre says. She'll not be on the regular paths, though," Madeline counseled.

"Yeah, we know that one well enough. Deirdre never goes along the obvious path," Allan added darkly as they set off quickly to track her down.

* * *

 

Deirdre decided that she should seek shelter from the coming storm; she found a cave and gathered some wood for a fire. She made a circle of rocks to enclose the fire, adding the kindling and then stacking the wood tent-shape. She took out her tinder-box and got a spark going, blowing on it carefully as the wind picked up outside. Soon, the fire was going strong. Her tears started as the rain did.

* * *

 

Marian and Guy arrived at Locksley in time for the noon meal; they ate together in Locksley Manor, speaking of trifles. After, Marian went to check on the people of Locksley, shadowed by Guy. When they arrived back at the manor house, Guy grabbed Marian's arm and steered her inside; he had had enough of subtlety.

"Guy, what are you doing?" Marian protested fearfully.

He spun her around to face him and held her face as he leaned in to kiss her, forcing her lips open. She tried to break free of his grasp, and her struggles seemed to bring some sense to Guy's fevered mind. He broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead on hers, trying to calm his breathing.

"I am sorry, Marian. I lost my head. But I am tired of playing games, aren't you? September twenty-second is the celebration of the harvest—we will celebrate our wedding then as well."

Marian smiled shakily. "Why Sir Guy, that has got to be the worst proposal I have ever heard. Surely you can ask me better than that."

"I am not proposing, Marian; I am not asking. You will be there." He turned on his heel and left her staring after his retreating form.

* * *

 

Allan and the gang made their way quickly back to Madeline's hut, where they picked up Deirdre's trail with little difficulty. Luckily, it was summer, and they had more daylight to search, but by nightfall they had still not found her.

Allan of course, wanted to continue the search, but the gang convinced him that he would do Deirdre no good with a broken neck from tripping on tree roots. Besides, the wind kicked up and a steady rain began to fall. They wouldn’t be able to see their hands before their faces in the downpour. Unfortunately, it meant her tracks would likely be obscured, signs far more difficult to follow.

When the foggy morning broke, Allan was—to everyone’s surprise—the first to wake in the morning, nudging the others and insisting that they eat as they walked. By midday, they had split up, searching in pairs as the trail had become obscured by the night’s rain. Allan and Robin took the middle trail, Will and Djaq took the western trail, and Much and John took the eastern trail.

An hour later, with the heat of the day penetrating even into the forest, Much and John came across a cave and decided to stop in to cool down; they were shocked to find the recent remains of a fire there, and moved quickly, trying to find the new trail. Another hour and they could discern the form of a young man traveling along the path before them. They snuck up on the boy, not wanting to startle him, and yet they did when Little John tapped on his shoulder. The boy whirled, knife already in hand, and the two outlaws were shocked to be looking into the tear-stained face of Deirdre A' Dale.

* * *

 

Deirdre lowered the knife as she recognized Much and Little John. She had no desire to hurt them, but she was confused as to why they were here; it could not be a coincidence. She could tell by the looks on their faces that they recognized her, so she decided to go on the offensive.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Well, we're looking for you. And now we've found you," Much stuttered.

Little John was making some sort of bird whistle, which had Deirdre on edge. It was bad enough to run across these two, but if the rest of the gang was about as well…

"You never found me," Deirdre declared and turned to continue on her journey.

Little John shook his great shaggy head and strode after her, grabbing her arm to stop her. "Yes, we have."

Little John was not a man used to being argued with, but Deirdre had done it before and from the look on her face, she was about to do it again. Sure enough, her next words contradicted Little John's.

"No, you haven't." She tried to pull her arm out of Little John's grasp, to no avail.

"What are you runnin' from, lass?"

Deirdre sniffed haughtily at him, somehow making him feel as though he was the smaller one of the two of them.

"I don't run  _from_  anything."

"Well, that's not exactly true," Much piped up, without noting the quelling look in Deirdre's eyes. "You did run from the sheriff's men when you stole that stallion meant for Prince John. And you did run from Guy when he would've forced you to marry him. You ran away—with us—when we rescued Allan from the torture chamber. And then there was the time we all ran away from the sheriff and Prince John when the sheriff told him about your thieving…" Much swallowed as he suddenly noticed the dangerous glint in Deirdre's eyes. They had become friends of late, but he did not forget that she had held a knife to his throat at one point.

"I did not run away. Those were strategic retreats."

"Sounds like bullshit to me, Luv," Allan declared, materializing from the trees with Robin; Will and Djaq soon followed.

_Great,_  Deirdre thought,  _so much for escaping without a scene._

Allan strode toward her, his body vibrating with anger as he bore down on her. The gang didn't know if Deirdre was gutsy or stupid as she held her ground. All of Allan's pent-up worry had transformed into anger. Robin had never seen him this angry, not even when they had fought over the cauldron of pitch in Nottingham's courtyard, not even in his last tussle with his wife. Little John looked ready to place himself between Allan and Deirdre, but held back at a look from Robin.

"Is that what you call this? A 'strategic retreat'? I call it runnin' away. I call it thick-headed. I call it foolish." He was in her face now, leaning over her, eyes boring into hers. "I call it typical Deirdre. Act first, ask questions later."

Despite the wariness that showed in her eyes for the barest of moments, Deirdre refused to back down. Her words demonstrated all her sadness and anger.

"There were no questions to ask, you double-dealing tosser! I heard you, plain as day, declaring your love for another woman! And then every time I tried to touch you, you acted like I had the plague! Did you think I was going to stick around and play the fool? You surely don't know me if that's the case!" Deirdre was returning his glare full-on by now, her cheeks red, her eyes gone glacial blue as she stood up to her husband.

Allan was so angry he didn't even remember that others were around. "What are you on about now, woman? I swear some days you're 'alf a pint short! I didn't touch ya 'cause I wanted ya so bad, I was afraid of losin' control and 'urtin' ya, even more than you'd already done to yourself, you stubborn, pig-headed…"

"You told Madeline that Djaq was the best woman—that's how you tell me you love me, you never just say it." Deirdre's voice was tormented, full of anguish, and she angrily dashed away the tears that had begun to spill down her cheeks.

Will and Djaq exchanged a mystified look and shrugged at each other.

"You truly are insane!" Allan was frustrated, angry and not wanting to admit that Deirdre could be right.

Deirdre's Irish was up, in more ways than one. The gang didn't know what she was saying, but they were sure it wasn't good.

"Go hifreann leat, Allan A' Dale! Póg ma thoin!"

Allan had gotten into more than one row with his wife and learned enough Irish to respond. "I'm already in 'ell, you bloody crazy woman, so I'll kiss your arse later! Right now, I wanna know what in God's name you think I'd want with Djaq when I'm in love with you!"

Deirdre blinked, surprise replacing the fury on her face. "Really?"

Allan was still in high temper, despite Deirdre's sudden turn. "Really what?"

"You're really in love with me and you really don't want Djaq?"

Allan's blue eyes widened incredulously. "Well o' course! D'ya think I went through all that stuff with Giz and the sheriff and Prince John 'cause I just  _like_  you? D'ya think I'd marry you 'cause I just like you? And no, I don't want Djaq—you saw her and Will, same's me awhile back. She and Will are a pair, just like you and me."

Robin, Much, and Little John exchanged knowing looks before grinning at the younger couple, who shifted uncomfortably next to each other.

"Then say it again," Deirdre demanded quietly.

"Say what again?"

The glare was back in Deirdre's eyes as she looked up at him.

The anger left Allan's face to be replaced by a grin as he registered the change in Deirdre's emotions. "I don't want Djaq," he teased.

Deirdre frowned up at him, un-amused.

Allan reached out to put his hands on her hips and bent his head down to tug on an earlobe as he whispered, "Because I'm in love with a crazy Irishwoman."

Deirdre stood stock-still for almost a full second before she pushed his head back to look into his eyes; he understood her unspoken demand immediately.

"I love you Deirdre. More than anythin'." With that simple statement, he placed his lips on hers, kissing her tenderly.

A moment of stubbornness, and then Deirdre was responding to his kiss, weaving her fingers through his auburn hair, molding her body to his. Will, Djaq, and Much looked away in embarrassment at their display, while Little John looked skyward with a smile on his face; Robin cleared his throat loudly and the pair broke apart, but stayed close, Deirdre's left hand engulfed in Allan's right one.

Deirdre began worrying her lower lip again, and as Allan looked over, his eyes went wide in annoyance—they had just got back together and already, she was up to something. He did not have long to wait to see what though. Deirdre looked at him sidelong, then took a deep breath, let it out, and looked back at Robin and the others.

"There is one other little thing." Deirdre hesitated.

"What is wrong, Deirdre?" Djaq asked, sympathetic as always.

"I heard talk. Before the—incident. While we were at camp."

The gang waited in varying levels of impatience and discomfort while Deirdre struggled to get the words out. She placed her hands on her tiny baby bulge.

"Look, I know this baby complicates things for all of you."

Much reddened and Robin frowned.

"I realize that we will endanger you more than usual, so I'll leave it to a vote, no hard feelings."

Deirdre looked at her husband, the love shining from her eyes.

"And Allan, if you wanted to stay with the gang for now, help them, I would wait for you in Scarborough. I realize that they were your family first and that what you do is important," she added as Allan would have protested.

"Any of you who would like me to leave, for whatever reason, just raise your hand now." Deirdre waited nervously for their reactions, hoping, but not expecting, to see no hands.


	12. Making Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best part of a tussle when you're young and married is making up.

Chapter Twelve: Making Up

"Are you out o' your flamin' mind?" Allan was the first to speak.

"No, Allan. The baby and I raise the risk that the rest of you will be caught. I'll be slower, clumsier, and then after-well, you know babies make noise. It's not fair that I saddle the gang with the extra risk without giving them a chance to give me the boot." She looked at their frowning faces and made another decision.

"It's also not fair to ask one of you to say you want me gone if everyone else wants me to stay. So," she bent and began gathering stones, then walked up to each person and handed them two, "if you want me to stay, place the white stone in my cap, and if you want me to go, place the brown stone. Come on, then!" she urged, as they made no move.

"Well this is just silly," Much grumbled as he stepped forward. Deirdre kept her head turned away until everyone was done, including Allan; she looked nervously around at the gang before opening her cap and nearly collapsed in tears at what she saw.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Much asked worriedly.

Mutely, Deirdre dumped the contents of the cap onto the ground before looking up at Robin and the others gratefully. "They're all white. Are you sure?"

Everyone nodded. Much rubbed the back of his neck. "I was sure I put in a brown one," he mused, then grinned at Deirdre as everyone pulled her up to hug her.

Robin looked to the sky. "We'd best be getting home," he declared. “We have people relying on us and it’s getting late.”

* * *

 

It was nearly evening again when the group arrived back at the cave Deirdre had stayed in the previous night.

"We could stop here, Robin. It's warm and dry and there's no animals living inside." Deirdre turned to Allan, leaning into his shoulder as he bent to place a kiss on her head.

Robin watched the couple, contemplating, as Much began gathering nearby twigs for kindling.

"I think we'll push on, but you two stay, get your rest."

Much looked at him open-mouthed. "But Master, surely you're kidding?" The breeze ruffled his brown hair, bringing with it the scent of moist earth. "It'll rain tonight."

Robin looked from Much to the A' Dales, who were nuzzling each other, seeming to not have even heard a word. He stepped closer to Much, although he doubted it was necessary, and spoke quietly.

"Deirdre and Allan just had a fight; they are married, in love, and no longer angry with each other. Do you really want to try to sleep in the same cave while they're…making up?"

Much glowered at the couple, who were now kissing each other hungrily, completely oblivious to their audience. He dropped the bundle of sticks he had already collected, and marched off, his answer obvious; the others smiled and followed. Robin stopped and turned back, pain crossing his face for a moment, before he called out, "We'll meet you at camp tomorrow night." The only acknowledgement he got was Allan's raised hand shooing him off.

* * *

 

As the others left, Allan's kisses became more urgent, then he suddenly broke away, fighting for control. Deirdre would have fallen if his hands weren't on her arms.

"What's the matter, Allan?"

"I told you before. I feel like I can't control myself and you're still hurt, and I won't hurt you, not for nothin'."

"Oh, Allan, you won't hurt me, I promise. Why don't you go catch something for supper while I get the fire going? We'll eat and then you'll feel better." Deirdre had seen from the look in his eyes that he wanted nothing to do with trying until she was better; she figured the distraction of hunting would help him.

By the time Allan returned with a small rabbit, Deirdre had the fire going, and it was beginning to get dark. Soon, the smell of the roasting meat mingled with the smell of the burning wood. Allan sat next to Deirdre in companionable silence and they laughed as their stomachs rumbled in unison. The meat was good and they continued to sit together once they were done, lulled by the fire and their full stomachs. Allan extended his cloak around Deirdre too, as the temperature dropped and the rain began to fall. Before long, they lay down and were both quickly asleep.

Allan was having a wonderful dream. In the dream, Deirdre was kissing him and nibbling his neck; her hands were softly stroking his body; Allan groaned in approval, reaching out to touch her. She felt way too real. He watched through hooded eyes, his mind half aware, his body fully so, as Deirdre moved away to remove her clothes. His wife then knelt beside him and helped him out of his clothes, kissing him wherever his flesh was revealed. Still barely conscious, he watched as she straddled him, moaning as she slowly took him into her body, his hands gripping her hips.

"Deirdre, what are you doin'? I'll hurt you. I'll hurt the babe." His voice was an anguished whisper. He wanted her, even more than usual, to ease the tension of their earlier fight, and of her near death, but on the other hand, a small part of him wanted to pull her off of him and keep her safe from all hurt, including any pain he might inflict.

"You won't hurt either of us, Allan. You just lie there and I'll make love to  _you_  for a change. We'll go slow and easy, the way you like."

Allan couldn't take his eyes off of her. She  _did_ ride him slow and easy, true to her word for once. He watched her breasts bouncing lightly in the firelight, her long hair a blonde curtain around her face; no sight had ever turned him on so much. She bent down to kiss his lips tenderly and he reached up to cup her jaw, grinning as she nipped him and sat back, taking him all the way inside of her again, her head thrown back and eyes closed in pure ecstasy.

His fingers went back to her hips and tried to increase their pace, but she grabbed him and placed his hands on her breasts, keeping it slow. Gently, he squeezed a firm nipple, watching her bite her trembling lip. Allan cupped her breasts, his breath hitching as he caught sight of her still-healing wound. He blinked back the tears thinking of how close she had come to death, and all to try to save him.  _Maybe it'd be better if she stayed in Scarborough,_  he thought, then selfishly changed his mind as she reached back to stroke his balls, squeezing his cock at the same time.  _I'll just tie 'er up next time before we go_ , he amended. Allan stroked her belly in wonder at the new life beginning to make itself known; she was still small, but the bulge was definitely noticeable. Deirdre returned his smile, just as proud as he was, and then lifted one of his strong hands to kiss his palm. He sucked in a breath, unable to believe how erotic the feel of her lips on his hand was.

She brought Allan's hands back to her hips, allowing him to help her increase the pace as he thrust deeply into her. Before long, his body became taught and arched as he pushed as deeply as possible into her, holding her to him while he poured all of his love into her; she too, had lost control, her nails scratching his chest as she squeezed him tightly, crying out his name.

Deirdre collapsed on top of him, completely spent, as they both tried to calm their breathing. Allan stroked her hair, blowing on it to try to move it away from his face so that he could breathe; eventually, he was able to move a hand to push her hair behind her ear.

"See," she said, her breathing still a bit ragged, "no harm done."

She felt the rumble of his laughter, and moved her head up to see the grinning, happy face that she loved so much.

"Deirdre, I don't know where my virgin wife learned to do that," he indicated her on top of him, "but it better've been from talkin' or I'll 'ave to thank some man right before I kill 'im."

Deirdre grinned back down at him. "Madeline and I talked a bit. Since Mum wasn't able to be there for my pre-wedding night talk, she felt it was her duty to properly…educate me."

"Really?" he raised one eyebrow appreciatively. "What else did she teach you?"

"You'll find out. If you're good. But not right now, I'm exhausted. How do men do it?"

"Do what?"

"When you make love to me, it seems like you have all the stamina in the world, and I felt like I was going to collapse before too much longer."

He waggled his eyebrows, pulling her back down to kiss her and reaching for a cloak to cover their shivering bodies. "We're good and properly motivated, Luv."

* * *

 

Marian paced her room. She could not marry Guy, not while she loved Robin. Not ever after all they had been through, all Guy had done to her, and to those she cared about. She glanced out the window at the sun still high in the July sky, despite it being well past the evening meal. She had two months to figure something out. Two months before she would become Lady de Gisbourne, whether she wanted to or not. Clouds scudded across the sky, moving in from the northeast, and a breeze picked up, foretelling a summer storm’s arrival and matching her mood.

She walked over to lean on the casement as the breeze picked up even more and the clouds began to cover the sun. The scent of rain was strong and a moment later, the sky opened up. Rain pounded the ground as people ran about in the courtyard, seeking shelter. Exhilaration coursed through her veins as thunder rumbled and lightning arced across the sky. She had an urge to climb out and run in the storm, but then the rain turned sideways, plastering her clothing to her chest. It was cold and took her breath away. She tried to put up with it, to bring back the feeling of joy and freedom the beginning of the storm had brought her, but in moments, she was standing in a puddle of water, shivering in her heavy clothing.

She closed the casement shutters and moved before the fire, building it up before shucking off the damp clothes. The items stuck together in a heavy mass, forcing her to let it all fall to the floor at once. She grabbed a towel and dried off before putting on new clothes and sitting before the fire to finish drying her hair and warming up. She rang for her maid, who exclaimed and fussed over the wet clothing.

“Please, Martha. Just bring me some tea, then dry out my things. I am fine. The wind shifted as I stood at the window. I will not die from getting wet.” Yet a part of her felt like she would die. How could she make it living in the forest if she could not handle a rainy night? There were times, as the Nightwatchman, she had delivered food and medicine to people on stormy nights, but she had always had the comfort of her father’s manse to return to.

Thoughts of the Nightwatchman and Robin turned her mind to a question that had been nagging her for a few weeks now—why had the gang not robbed the faux farmers that she had told them about? Guy had been nearly impossible to shake in that time, but she had heard that he was to make a trip to London soon, probably to request Prince John’s permission to marry her. A shudder wracked her body, not entirely from her body’s temperature normalizing itself. She needed to see Robin, and soon.

* * *

 

Deirdre and Allan were walking along the forest deer paths, making their way back to camp. The rain had cooled things the night before, but now the trees seemed to have captured the moisture, and with the heat of the day, made the air nearly unbreatheable. Allan carried Deirdre's traveling bag over his left shoulder, Deirdre walked by his right side. The forest was quiet, the animals too hot to come out and move about; the only sound was the squishing of the pine needles being pushed into the mud by their footsteps. As they neared the camp, they would walk on as many rocks or dry patches as possible to cover their trail. They stopped to rest and eat a bit by a small rill. Allan tore a chunk of bread off to hand to Deirdre, then looked at the ground as he spoke.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Deirdre, none of it. I couldn't bear to lose you."

Deirdre stopped in the middle of biting off a piece of the bread at Allan's admission. She knew exactly what he meant, and while a perverse part of her wanted to ask him anyway, the part that loved him knew she had already put him through too much.

"I won't," she replied simply.

"Promise me, Deirdre. I want your word." Allan's gaze swung up to meet the eyes of his wife, looking deeply for any sign of dishonesty.

Deirdre met his gaze steadily. "I promise. I will never endanger myself or the baby again. I will never leave you again. I love you, Allan and I'm so sorry for putting you through all that. I really was just trying to help, but next time, I'll trust in the gang."

"And when I tell you 'no' about somethin'? Will you trust me, too?"

"Allan…" Deirdre had never given control of her life over to anyone, not even her father when he had come along to claim her and to marry her mother. She had always been in control of her own life, responsible for her own destiny, and it terrified her to give that up.

Allan puffed out an exasperated breath, hardening his gaze. "Deirdre, I love you. You either love me and trust me or you don't. You know I ain't gonna tell you to do somethin' that'll hurt you, and I ain't gonna tell you not to do somethin' unless I think you'll get hurt."

She nodded and bit her lip. "I know, Allan. It's just that I do love you, and I don't want to make a promise to you that I can't keep. Can I think on it?"

"No. If you trust me, you'll agree and there's an end to it."

Allan's intense gaze felt like it was burning into Deirdre's soul, branding her as his, and it was with a little thrill of fear that she slowly nodded her head.

"Say the words, Deirdre." Allan hated to be harsh, but knew that with Deirdre, it was pull the noose tight or she would wiggle out.

"I trust you, Allan."

He raised an eyebrow, urging her on.

"And I will do what you tell me to from now on."

Allan sighed in relief; if she kept her word, his life was going to get a whole lot easier again.

* * *

 

Deirdre had been oddly silent all the way back to camp; Allan assumed that she was tired because of the baby and the fact that she was still recovering from a sword wound. She was quiet all through supper and went to bed early, claiming the exhaustion that Allan was certain she felt. When he joined her a while later, after a few hours of talking and laughing with the gang around the fire, she was already asleep.

It was well past midnight when Deirdre crept from the bower. When Allan awoke, she told him that she had to go relieve herself. He murmured something that sounded like "be careful", and then rolled back over, closing his eyes again. Deirdre bent to quietly pick up her sword and went out into the camp, stopping at the place where Robin kept all the treasure. She stared at the smaller rocks which blocked the little hollow in the rock face, worrying her lower lip.


	13. The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy hormones and a brush with death have Deirdre in a severe depression.

Chapter Thirteen: The Dead

Sighing resolutely, Deirdre bent forward to remove the main rock that guarded the alcove where Robin kept all the money that they robbed before its re-distribution to the poor. She stared for a bit at all the boxes and purses, the jewelry and bejeweled weapons. With tears tracking down her face, she bent to pick up the sword she had placed on the ground by her feet.

She traced the pattern on the leather scabbard lovingly, remembering the leather-worker who had taught her to make her own pattern on the scabbard he had made special for the O'Niall's daughter. Removing the sword slightly, she watched the moonlight dance off the shining metal, thinking back to how bemused and then proud Martin had been as he taught her the use of the sword and she caught on so very quickly, the sword a mere extension of her arms. 

_If only Nottingham's guard had not gotten in that lucky stroke…_ She sighed, breath hitching a bit, as she pushed the sword back into its scabbard, then took the cloak she wore and laid it on the ground, gently placing the sword on top of it and swaddling it as lovingly as if it were the babe inside of her. She placed the sword into the alcove and moved the rock back into its place, leaning heavily on it for a moment as her shoulders shook in grief for the part of her she had just interred. She had no regrets—if she had to do it all over again, she would choose Allan; she just wished it were not so difficult to be a woman, to have to make such choices. After a time, she angrily wiped the tears from her face. Allan would not see her cry over this. She would be a good wife and mother; she would be whatever he needed her to be, no matter the cost. Pushing back her shoulders and raising her chin, she made her way back to the bed to lay by her husband's side.

* * *

 

A few days later, the gang was once again preparing to go raiding. Deirdre had been oddly subdued and Allan was truly afraid that she was once again going to go back on her word. He kissed her gently, noting that even her kisses were lacking the passion they had held before she had been injured; he shrugged inwardly, imagining that coming so near to death may have affected her more deeply than any of them knew. Perhaps after the baby was born, she would be back to her old self; perversely, he missed fighting with her, missed the way she could fire his anger in one minute and his ardor in the next. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, hoping to elicit a response, and she opened her mouth to him and returned his kiss, but tiredly, as though she was lifeless. He broke off, and looked into her eyes, noting the sadness there, mistaking it for worry.

"I'll be all right, Luv, I promise. Have supper waiting for us?" He chucked her chin and gave her a grin.

She nodded mutely, biting her lower lip to stop the trembling, and watched as the gang all left. She spent the next few hours fixing dinner and straightening the camp, trying to keep from thinking too much. When the gang returned, she served them silently, then went to bed, claiming exhaustion. She lay in her bed as the comradely laughter of the others tormented her.

When Allan stumbled into bed, Deirdre was already asleep. It was too dark for him to see the dried tear tracks on her face.

* * *

 

The next morning, Marian arrived at the camp. Deirdre had already left to go off in search of more herbs. Allan and Robin were sparring, but Robin was distracted by Marian's arrival, and Allan knocked the wind out of him with the flat of his blade.

Marian looked down at his kneeling form, as he tried to get his breath back.

"You know, most men don't literally fall to their knees to worship me," she teased.

Robin glanced up, a grin on his face. "But then, I'm not most men, My Love."

"No, you have the arrogance of  _two_  men."

"Not that I'm complaining about you being here, but why are you here? Have you decided to come and stay finally?"

"I've told you, green doesn't suit me. I came to find out why you haven't taken any of the sheriff's deliveries."

Robin's face sobered and he looked to Allan, who glanced at the ground before answering.

"Deirdre was hurt on the first one. She thought there might be more guards and came to tell us, but got caught by 'em 'erself. One of 'em stabbed 'er. It was bad. So we ain't been since, not 'til yesterday."

Marian's face had paled at Allan's words. "She's all right, isn't she?" She glanced wildly around, looking for her friend.

"Yeah, she's all right now, but it was close."

Marian turned a solemn face to Allan. "What about…I mean, is she still…?"

"The babe's all right."

Marian released a breath on a loud exhale.

"Where is she now?"

"Out gettin' some herbs. Said she'd be by the stream."

"Robin, we need to talk. I'll be back soon." With that, Marian took off to check on Deirdre.

* * *

 

Deirdre sat on a rock by the stream, staring idly at the very spot where she and Allan had made love so passionately only a couple of months before. Her knees were drawn up, arms resting on them, with her chin resting on her arms. She sighed deeply, wrestling with her inner demons.

She loved Allan so much and could not believe how much she already loved the baby inside of her. She would not leave Allan again—she had seen first-hand how that had torn him up—but she just wanted to feel useful. She was used to being in the thick of things and the gang's chatter last night about the raid just past and of the ones to come had made her feel like she was on the outside looking in. It hurt less to just not be there, and so she had decided to spend her days away, gathering herbs and berries, coming up with any excuse to not spend the day at camp with the conquering heroes. She didn't hear Marian softly calling her name until the dark-haired woman was standing directly in front of her.

"Deirdre?" Marian had been calling her friend's name since she had stepped from the forest's edge, not wanting to startle her, but Deirdre seemed completely lost in her reverie.

Deirdre blinked and looked up, her eyes focusing finally on Marian's face.

"Marian? What are you doing here?"

"You know, I'm going to start taking offense if people keep asking me that."

Deirdre lowered her brow in consternation at Marian's words.

"Never mind." Marian sat next to Deirdre on the rock, mimicking her position. "How are you anyway? Allan said you had been hurt."

"Umm hmm."

"Well, what happened?"

Deirdre snorted. "I'm sure you already heard all about it, about how irresponsible I was and how I disobeyed him and nearly killed the baby and myself in the process."

"No. He said that you came to try to warn them about extra guards and got hurt when one of them stabbed you. He did say you were hurt pretty badly."

Deirdre stared at Marian, jaw agape. "Did he sound mad?"

"He sounded scared, worried."

Deirdre blinked at this unexpected news. She was not surprised at his worry, just at his lack of anger.

"So what happened? I want to hear your side of it."

"Mostly, what Allan said. He did tell me to stay at camp, but the more I thought on it, the more I knew there would be guards lurking about. I went to warn them, but came upon the guards too suddenly. I knocked one out, but two others caught me. I got out of their grip and it turned into a sword fight. You know I'm good with the sword," at this, Marian nodded, "but then I lost my footing and one of the guards stabbed me." Deirdre held her hand to the spot just below her breasts where the scar would still be visible if she were unclothed.

"Are you okay now?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Deirdre's answer was a little too quick, a little too forceful, and Marian cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. So how's castle life?" Deirdre tried to change the subject.

Marian sighed. "Guy's decided to marry me at the end of September."

Normally, such a statement would have had Deirdre up in arms, but instead, she asked, "Where will the wedding be?"

Marian turned an incredulous look on the blonde woman who was sitting blithely beside her.

"There will be no wedding!" Until that moment, Marian had not really made her decision.

"Why not?"

"Are you serious? I cannot marry Guy. I love Robin."

"So what will you do?"

Marian looked at the gently flowing stream. "I don't know."

"You could run away. My family would probably shelter you."

"Why couldn't I come here?"

Deirdre seemed genuinely confused, and not at all herself. Marian was honestly worried.

"Deirdre, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not yourself."

"I'm fine, really."

Marian stared at her stubborn friend, finally sighing as she realized no answer would be forthcoming. She stood up and hopped down from the rock.

"Walk with me back to camp?"

"No, I'm going to stay here a bit longer. You go ahead."

With a frown, Marian turned and left.

* * *

 

Marian strode belligerently up to Allan.

"What happened to her?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, something's wrong with her."

"Well o' course. I told you she was stabbed."

"That's not what I mean. She's not the same woman."

"What are you on about? O' course she's the same woman."

"No. Something's changed. I told her I was to marry Gisbourne and she asked me where the wedding would be."

"What?" Robin, walking toward them, had overheard Marian's statement and replied in unison with Allan.

"You're marrying Gisbourne?" Robin glowered at her.

"Again? Didn't you already get caught up in that mess?" Allan's glib question and his lack of understanding about Deirdre made Marian's blood boil.

"You," she stabbed a finger into Allan's chest, "are an idiot! There's something wrong with your wife that has nothing to do with stab wounds. Something's missing. Here," she pointed to her head, "and here!" she thumped her chest above her breasts. "And you," she turned on Robin, "are an idiot as well! I am not marrying Guy, although he has already set a date. Help me out of it!"

Robin moved in closer, and Allan cleared his throat. "I'm gonna go check on Deirdre," he claimed as he made his way into the forest.

Robin pulled Marian's body nearer until she was molded to him; he bent his head to place a kiss on her lips as he held her cheek in the palm of his hand.

"You cannot marry Gisbourne. You have already promised to marry me."

Marian could feel his desire pressing against her and a little thrill went through her body as she molded herself to him.

"Yes, well at least Guy has set a date."

"Stay here and we'll be handfasted before dark."

"Guy owns property."

" _My_  property! And besides, I own all Sherwood."

"And everything in it?" she cooed, pressing her lips against his.

* * *

 

"And everything in it," he murmured against her mouth before capturing her lips again.

Allan was not really sure what Marian was talking about, but he had definitely wanted to get away from her and Robin before they turned all lovey-dovey; no wonder Much complained about him and Deirdre. Thinking of his wife, he frowned, trying to see what Marian had said. Sure, Deirdre had been quiet lately, her kisses much more subdued. Come to think of it, when he had hitched up her dress the other night and slipped gently into her, she had just lain there; no squeezing him, no urging him on, no scratching or biting, just accepting. That was definitely odd. And so was the fact that she was wearing dresses every day now; she had barely worn a dress since coming to the camp, claiming that pants were easier in the forest. Now that he thought about it, there were a lot of little things that were just  _wrong_ , as Marian had said; the more he thought, the more he felt foolish for not having noticed before. He came upon her, sitting by the stream on a boulder.

"Deirdre," he called softly once, then louder.

She turned, startled at the sound of his voice, then glanced skyward quickly before her gaze came back to him. She scrambled down from the rock.

"I'm sorry, Allan. Is it late? I didn't realize…"

"No, it ain't late. I just came to talk to you, is all. You ain't been around much the last few days and I missed you."

"Oh. I'm sorry. We can go back if you want."

Allan frowned. Marian was right—this was not his wife.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."

Allan gestured toward her with his hand. "I mean all this."

"I'm sorry. I guess I got dirty. Shall I bathe before I come back?"

Allan's body responded to the suggestion, but not to the way the words were said, like she was asking his permission.

"That's not what I mean."

He closed the distance between them, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him when she would have looked at the ground. Her eyes wavered, scooting quickly away to the side rather than being held by his gaze.

"Look at me." It was a command, pure and simple. He looked into her eyes and saw pain and loss; the power of it hit him like fallen tree. "What's wrong, Luv? Why're you so sad?"

Deirdre made an attempt at a smile. "There's nothing wrong. I'm fine."

Allan quirked an eyebrow at her. "You're lyin' to me. I won't 'ave you lyin' to me."

His eyes bored into her soul, forcing her to comply.

"I…" she loved him so much, and if he was seeing her pain, she was not playing her part well enough. She vowed to renew her efforts, to make him happy, no matter what.

"I've just been tired, is all." At his disbelieving look, she added, "And I guess that sword stroke scared me more than I care to admit. I just want to be cautious from now on. For the baby."

Allan wrapped his arm around her head and pulled her close, kissing her hair. "It'll be all right, Luv. I'll keep you safe, I swear. I love you and I ain't gonna let nobody hurt you or the babe. D'you trust me?"

He pushed her back slightly to look on her face. Deirdre's mouth turned up faintly and she nodded.

"I do, Allan."

"Well, all right then." Allan pulled her back and held her close.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who've been pregnant, you know that hormones will drive you crazy-up one minute, down the next; it's usually worse with the first one, because you don't quite know what to expect, so there's a bit of fear in there too. Deirdre's also feeling that huge loss of the freedom she had, so her emotions are a bit whacky right now.


	14. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allan is determined to find his wife behind the front she is putting up. And the gang is just as determined to save Marian.

Chapter Fourteen: Sacrifice 

Allan and Deirdre arrived back in camp to find Robin and Marian arguing.

"I'm going back. Now, before I'm missed."

"Marian, it's not safe. Unless you  _want_  to marry Gisbourne."

"No, I don't, but…"

"But what, Marian? There are no decisions to be made. You'll stay here. Anything else that you  _need_  from the castle, we'll sneak in and get for you."

"I won't be commanded. I'm not one of your men!" Marian declared hotly.

"Fine. Go back to Nottingham. Marry Gisbourne. It's obviously what you want anyway." Robin made to turn away when a soft voice stopped him.

"Kirklees," Deirdre nearly whispered.

"What?" Robin and Marian turned to her.

Deirdre stood with Allan's arm around her shoulder; she looked at the other couple with some trepidation.

"Marian could go to Kirklees. But Robin's right too, Marian—you can't go back to Nottingham if you expect to get out of there again as an unmarried woman. Guy already lost you once, and on top of that, when I married Allan…well, he'll be a bit more cautious, I would think, as the time draws near."

Allan smiled beatifically at his wife. "That's my girl, always thinkin'. You know that plan'll work, but only if you go now, like Deirdre says. When's the weddin' to be?"

"September twenty-second," Marian replied.

"It's August now. If you managed to slip away from Giz, I say keep slippin' before 'e ties you up proper."

Marian frowned, seeming to think. She tapped her lip. “Right now, he’s in London. I’m sure I could manage to get my things and leave again before he returns.”

Robin's anger, which had begun to cool, heated up again at Marian’s answer. “That’s not a good idea, and you know it.”

Marian glowered at Robin as he continued.

"It's not that hard a decision, Marian. You can marry Gisbourne, you can marry me, or you can go to Kirklees."

As Marian pondered, Deirdre looked up at Allan.

"Give us a minute?" she requested of both men.

Allan shrugged and wandered off, accompanied by a scowling Robin.

When the men were gone, Deirdre turned to Marian.

"What's really bothering you?"

"I could ask you the same question," Marian replied a little hotly.

"But I'm not important right now." Deirdre's soft reply worried Marian, but before she could comment, Deirdre continued. "Do you want to marry Guy?"

"No!" Marian's answer was vehement.

"Guy does have land and money and power. You could be comfortable as his wife."

Deirdre’s words stung, reminding Marian of her own thoughts last week when the storm had soaked her to the bone. When pushed, Marian always struck back.

"Are you regretting your decision to marry Allan?"

Deirdre considered before answering. "There are times when I wish that marrying Allan had not led us here; when I wish we were comfortably settled in a house on my da's lands…" Deirdre paused, blinking back the tears as she thought of the family she could never again see without risking their lives. She had given up everything for Allan—wealth, power, land—and she still was sacrificing for him; she knew that if it came to it, she would sacrifice her very life. A woman always sacrificed when she married, Deirdre could at least take comfort in the fact that she had married someone she loved. She squared her shoulders. "But I'm not the one we're discussing here. Do you wish to marry Guy?"

"I don't wish to marry at all right now. And besides, if I disappear, Guy will be suspicious and he'll come to the forest. If he loses me to Robin after losing you to Allan, he will hunt them down worse than ever."

"So Kirklees it is then," Deirdre finished.

Marian sighed, "Kirklees it is. But I do have to return to Nottingham first. I have things to collect, and I would leave a letter for Guy, so that he and the sheriff know that I'm off to Kirklees. At least then they won't come looking for me in the forest."

Deirdre knew Marian was right, but worried for her nonetheless. "Let's go tell the men, shall we?"

* * *

 

Will was showing Djaq how to carve objects from wood. They had wandered off for their lesson when it seemed the other two couples needed a bit of privacy. Carving lessons were a pretense to be alone and both of them knew it. Djaq was sitting on a rock with Will beside her, showing her the rudiments after he had already shown her how to choose the proper piece of wood. He leaned closer to inspect her work, reaching a calloused hand over to point out where she had done well and where she needed more work; he blushed furiously as his arm grazed across her small breasts.

Djaq inhaled sharply at the feel of Will's arm brushing across her chest. He was showing her how to carve, but all she really wanted was to feel his warm lips on hers again, his strong arms around her body. She leaned closer, her eyes closed, lips parted slightly in expectation. When this received no response, she opened her eyes to find Will concentrating heavily on the piece of wood in front of him, his face flushed in embarrassment.

"Will, you care for me, yes?" she asked bluntly.

If it was possible, the young carpenter's face became even redder. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Then kiss me, you silly man!" she demanded, grinning at him.

A smile split his own face a moment before he captured her lips with his, pulling her close as the pieces of wood that they had been working on fell unnoticed from the rock.

* * *

 

Robin saw the reason behind Marian's decision, but was still in a foul temper for the rest of the night. Allan would have stayed up with Robin longer despite his bad mood, but decided to go into bed with his wife when she went.

Deirdre unlaced the top to her over-tunic, surprised when the door to their bower opened and Allan ducked in.

"What are you doing here?"

Allan smiled at her crookedly, "I'm not bein' funny Luv, but I live 'ere."

"Well, yes, but…you usually stay up a bit."

"And tonight, I want to climb into bed with my wife while she's still awake."

"Oh," Deirdre responded shortly.

Allan began to help with the laces that were yet to be undone on her top, and helped her pull the dress over her head. Deirdre moved to climb under the covers, but was stopped by Allan's hand on her arm. He pulled her close, feathering her face and neck with kisses. Deirdre closed her eyes, trying to shut off her mind and let her body just enjoy the attentions of her husband, hoping that in time she could forget the things she no longer had and focus instead on those she did. A low moan escaped her throat as his hands traveled down from her neck and came to rest on her breasts, his thumbs teasing her taut nipples. A couple of moments later, Allan had grabbed her dress and was putting it back on her, much to Deirdre's confusion.

"What…?"

"I think we oughta take a little walk," Allan responded, his breathing ragged.

"But Allan, I'm too tired to go for a walk." Deirdre didn't know what he was up to, nor was she sure she wanted to.

Allan leaned closer to whisper in her ear, sending a thrill through her body. "All you 'ave to do is walk out o' the camp and I'll carry you the rest of the way." His hands continued to stroke her arms proprietorially.

"Where are we going?"

"Someplace we don't 'ave to be quiet." Allan's teeth tugged on an earlobe and Deirdre nearly swooned—the evil man  _knew_  how much she enjoyed that.

"I see," Deirdre swallowed nervously, "but won't they all know what we're up to?"

"Would you rather them  _hear_  what we're up to?"

"You make a good point." Deirdre walked quickly through the door and out of the camp, followed by Allan.

"Now where are  _they_  going?" Much asked, watching the couple leave. "And where have you two been?" he added, as Will and Djaq returned to camp; Djaq's short hair was slightly mussed, her lips swollen and pink, as were Will's. The two colored and walked to their beds without responding.

* * *

 

True to his word, Allan picked Deirdre up as soon as they were on solid ground outside the camp; he carried her by moonlight all the way to their cave, where he laid her gently on the ground as he went about lighting their camp-fire from the kindling they kept in one of the smaller openings. Once the fire was going, Allan lifted Deirdre to her feet and began to unlace her dress again.

"Now where were we?" he murmured against her neck as his thumbs again found her nipples through the shift.

"I believe we were right about there," Deirdre responded, her head thrown back, eyes closed in bliss. Her hands caught in Allan's hair as he bent lower to suckle on a pert nipple through the cloth of her shift. Deirdre's breath came in ragged gasps as he sucked first softly, then nearly biting her; he moved to her other nipple while his thumb pinched and rubbed the first one.

Allan dropped to his knees and pushed up her shift, kissing her growing belly before moving lower to tug on her sex with his teeth, satisfied when he heard her cry out. He was going to get his wife back tonight, if he had to drive her over the edge to do it. He was determined that the passive woman who had shared his body the other night would not be there tonight; tonight, he wanted his scratching, clawing, biting, screaming, passionate wife back and he would do whatever he had to do to find her. He smiled inwardly as he pushed his tongue up into her core and she nearly collapsed.

Deirdre had been feeling sad and lonely and useless, but with Allan's hands and mouth working on her body, none of that seemed to matter. She watched him in anticipation as he got down on his knees and began kissing her belly; when his teeth grabbed and pulled on her nub, she thought she would die from the pleasure of it. Then, the shift fell back down to cover him, too, and his tongue was diving deeply into her. It was extremely erotic to feel his tongue pushing into her, lapping at her, and to not be able to see him; she felt her legs begin to buckle and grabbed his shoulders under the shift for support.

Allan couldn't believe how good she tasted. It had been so long since he had done this to her and he wanted to savor the moment, a starving man brought to a feast. He felt his cock straining against his breeches, but he would leave them on for a time yet, to avoid the temptation of slipping into her before he thought she was ready. He pushed his tongue deeply into her channel over and over again, and before long, felt her body tense as she found her release, crying his name. He wiped his mouth on her shift, then stood to pull it over her head.

Deirdre was having a hard time standing. Allan's tongue was always magical, whether he was using it to spin a story or to spin her out of control. She could barely breathe as he made love to her with it, now licking, now moving it in and out of her body until she came, unable to control the shaking in her legs. She watched as Allan appeared from under her shift, wiping his face, then standing to bring the shift over her head. He pulled her down to the ground and laid her on her back and she squeezed her lower body in anticipation.

Rather than removing his clothes and lying with her though, Allan knelt by her side and went back to suckling her nipples as his fingers took over where his tongue had been before. He rubbed and squeezed at her sex before sliding his fingers further down to rest against her now-wet opening. Deirdre couldn't control the wiggling of her hips as she waited for him to slip a finger into her.

Allan kept rubbing her inner thighs, moving his hand back to rest just below her belly, then moving back to her thighs. He could feel the anticipation building in her every time his fingers brushed over her entrance, the let-down when they moved on. He smiled and bit down on a nipple as Deirdre sighed in frustration yet again.

"Ow! Allan, please!"

"Please what, Luv?" he questioned, looking innocently up at her.

“Stop toying with me,” she whined.

"Deirdre, I've only begun to toy with you." His words were a growled threat which had her eager and annoyed at the same time. He chuckled low in his throat at her look of annoyance, a look he had not realized he had missed so much. Her blonde brows were lowered over glittering blue eyes and her pink lips were pursed as the frown pulled those same lips down; her nostrils pinched until he began suckling at her breast again.

Allan moved his mouth lower, laughing to himself as Deirdre's legs twitched. He took her sex back between his teeth and almost casually slipped a finger into her, grinning at the cry that escaped her throat. He moved his finger in and out slowly as she writhed beneath him, begging him for more.

Another finger, and another, slipped into her, and Deirdre felt like she would shatter if he didn't just take off his pants and get inside of her. Allan sat back on his haunches; as he had said though, he was not done with her yet. She felt his fingers move inside of her gently at first, then hard and fast, slamming into her body with the strength of her husband's sword arm behind them. She was nearly at her release when he removed his fingers abruptly. Deirdre hoped that he had stopped in order to remove his pants and thrust into her, but a moment later, she felt his finger gently swirling the hair at her opening, before slipping slowly back into her.

"Oh, God, Allan! Please! I want you inside of me so much."

"Then make me a promise,"

She would have promised to walk through fire at that moment if he would only get undressed and get inside of her.

"Anything!"

"I want you like this in my bed from now on." A thrust of his finger punctuated his words. "And no more acting all apologetic and such—if you want somethin', I want you to fight for it." Thrust—a second finger. "I want you 'appy, Deirdre, even if it sods me off sometimes." Thrust—his third finger, and now all three fingers were buried deep inside of her body, tickling her inner walls. "Promise me, Deirdre, to be who you are, because I don't like who you've become in the past few days." His other hand had released the buckle and the tie on his breeches, which now fell to his knees.

Deirdre looked down to see him, hard and ready for her and she wriggled with need.

"Yes, Allan, I promise!"

"Wrong answer." He pulled his fingers out of her, slowly pushing them back in.

"Then what do you want me to say?" Deirdre was nearly crying with need now.

"Wrong answer," he repeated, removing his fingers and then shoving them unhurriedly into her again.

"Jesus, Allan! Just get undressed and get inside of me before I die!"

Despite the fingers in her center, Deirdre sat up and ripped open his shirt, flinging it aside when he pulled his fingers out of her. She grabbed him and yanked his body down to her, her hand wrapped firmly around his length, guiding him to her core. Allan's strong hands dug into her hips as he thrust himself deeply into her, pushing as far as he could go until he felt his balls against her butt cheeks.

"Right answer," he panted at her as he drove in and out of her, her hips matching his rhythm, her nails leaving marks on his lower back and buttocks, her teeth doing the same to his shoulder and neck. Before long, they both cried out, their voices echoing in the cave, and collapsed in sheer exhaustion.


	15. Concessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deirdre and Allan come to an agreement about her participation with the gang. For now. And Guy is determined not to lose another bride.

Allan and Deirdre awoke the next morning stiff and sore from last night's lovemaking. They decided that hair of the dog was the best cure, and Allan hissed in pleasure as her hand stroked over his balls, then moved up to squeeze his throbbing erection. She grabbed one of his nipples in her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, then nipping it gently before continuing to suckle. Allan's arm was wrapped around her and he squeezed her shoulder as she made love to him, glad to have the woman he loved back. Deirdre moved up to kiss him properly, her tongue diving into his mouth; if he really just wanted her to be herself, she could do that with a much lighter heart.

Allan rolled her over and Deirdre automatically wrapped her legs around his torso as he pressed himself against her soft entrance for a moment before he slid gently inside of her.

"Mmmm…God, Luv, it feels good to 'ave you back," he murmured in her ear as he snuggled his hips against hers.

Deirdre nipped his earlobe and squeezed him tight. "Are you sure you don't want me to behave like a proper wife?"

"If it means you ain't 'appy…no. I love you, Deirdre. I know I didn't tell you that enough before, but I'm gonna change that now." Allan gazed deep into her eyes, and Deirdre could see the conviction there.

"You know, I'm going to really annoy you sometimes."

"Yeah, well, so long's you make it up by being my wild wife in our bed, I imagine I'll forgive you."

Deirdre grinned and thrust her hips at him, raking his back with her nails. "So it's okay if I go on raids with you and the gang?"

Allan frowned as he thought again of how close she and the baby had come to death. "Why's it always gotta be somethin' dangerous?"

“Allan…”

"I know, I know…make up my mind. I want you 'appy—I just don't want you hurt; is that so wrong for a man to want 'is wife and child safe?"

"But we're not safe, Allan. None of us are. Not until Richard returns and deals with John. All I want to do is help."

Allan sighed heavily, feeling himself soften inside of her. "Look Deirdre, if you're just not in the mood…"

Deirdre, feeling him begin to slip out of her, laughed lightly, wiggling her hips and squeezing him tightly as she reached down to stroke his flank. She was rewarded for her efforts when Allan's breathing became more rapid and he swelled inside of her again, closing his eyes in bliss.

Allan reached down to take an earlobe into his mouth, sucking and nipping on it, causing Deirdre to cry out in pleasure. He pulled slowly out of her and eased back in, going as deep as he could, each thrust completely unhurried, taking his time, knowing she would lose patience soon. She moaned and writhed underneath him, the sound and smell and feel of her making it difficult to keep his control, particularly when she locked her ankles on the small of his back and began thrusting her hips up at him more quickly, urging him to go faster.

"Lord, Allan, you feel so good," she whispered in his ear and he began to move faster; she matched him thrust for thrust. He felt it coming, the fluttering that meant she was going over the edge and buried himself in her as she cried out, pushing her hips hard against his.

"I guess I do feel good, eh?" he grinned at her as he began to pick up the rhythm again. He could see a fine sheen of sweat on her upper lip and her eyes were bright. He dipped his head to inhale her scent; she smelled of their lovemaking and the herbs she picked, a powerful aphrodisiac to the primitive male in him. She was  _his_ —only  _he_  could do this to her, only  _he_  could make her moan and writhe in pleasure, only  _he_  could fill her belly with his seed, watching it grow inside of her.

He pulled out of her, waiting until her legs began to twitch in anticipation before he thrust back into her, hard and deep, burying himself in her. He waited a moment before repeating the process, slowly pulling out of her, holding, then thrusting violently back into her. She was nearing the edge again, he could feel it; she seemed to have lost control of her body—moaning, whimpering, shuddering underneath him. Gradually, he picked up the pace, levering himself in and out of her; she matched him, squeezing him on every inward thrust until they both found their release.

When they had finally caught their breath again, Deirdre spoke into Allan's ear.

"So, helping…?"

Allan pushed himself slowly up until his arms were straight and he could look at her face. He cocked an eyebrow at her disbelievingly.

"So were you thinking about that the whole time we was…?"

Deirdre had the decency to look horrified. "Of course not! Not the  _whole_  time," she added, then giggled as he began tickling her ribs. Soon she was screaming, tears rolling down her face as Allan kept up his assault, finally giving in to her pleas to stop and pulling her to him to nip at her neck.

"You're an 'orrible, rotten woman, you know that?"

"But one who wants to be helpful," Deirdre persisted.

"Peace, woman! You are helpful. You help with the cookin', which pleases Much and that makes everyone's life easier. You help with the little chores around camp and you keep the gang's best front man satisfied," he grinned at her.

Deirdre glanced sidelong at him from under her lashes. "Yeah, but Robin's not nearly as fun as you are."

Allan's eyes widened a moment before he began to tickle her again; when he stopped this time, the grin vanished from his face to be replaced by a thoughtful look. He rolled off of her, laying on his side beside her, arm crooked to support his head.

"Is it not enough that you help us by keeping us warm and fed?" Allan already knew the answer, but he was grasping at straws.

"Allan, I need to be  _with_  all of you, in the thick of it." She grabbed a calloused hand and kissed his palm, the action sending shivers down his spine. He fought to harden his features.

"You stay out of it for now, at least until the baby's born. I won't back down on that one, Deirdre."

She sighed and frowned, considering for a moment. He was right. She would become bigger and more ungainly, and would be more hindrance than help in a battle, at least for the next few months.

"All right, but after the baby comes, I'll be wanting to be included again."

Allan frowned, knowing he had no real choice outside of tying her up, but hoping she would prefer to stay at camp with the baby.

"So where's the baby gonna be in all this? You can't take 'im with—I won't allow that, no matter what."

Deirdre crossed her hands over her belly, rubbing the slight bulge. "She'll stay at camp of course."

"Alone?" Allan’s brows shot up.

Deirdre snorted. "Of course not. She’ll be with one of you."

"Who?" Allan asked suspiciously.

"Well, sometimes I would stay with her and sometimes Djaq would stay with her and sometimes you could stay with her…we could all take turns."

"Take turns?"

"Did I stutter? It's the only fair way."

"Yeah, well, you're 'is mother," Allan muttered darkly.

"And you're her father."

"And what's all this 'her'? I'm not bein' funny, Deirdre, but it'll be a boy."

"What makes you say that?" Deirdre rolled to her side to face him.

"I just know, is all."

Deirdre lowered her voice, mocking him. “ _I just know, is all._ ” Her voice returned to her own tone. “Well, you're wrong."

"How do _you_ know?"

"I'm the mother.  _I_  know."

"Of course you do, Luv, but it's gonna be awkward namin' our daughter 'Tom'."

Deirdre smiled and poked Allan in the ribs; he dodged the strike he had figured was coming and rolled her onto her back, kissing her swelling abdomen.

Deirdre laughed as she felt the tickling inside of her, like butterflies were trapped in her tummy.

"What?" Allan asked in consternation.

Deirdre placed a hand on her belly, grabbing Allan's hand with her other one.

"There. Can you feel that?"

Allan raised an eyebrow at her. "Did I feel what?"

"You didn't feel it?"

"No."

Deirdre's smile turned inward as she closed her eyes, basking in the knowledge that she was feeling the first movements of her baby.

* * *

Guy stormed into Marian's chambers just as she was packing her last trunk.

"You cannot do this to me, Marian!" he cried without preamble.

"Sir Guy, I'm afraid you have me at a loss. What have I done to you? And how are you back so soon?"

He noted her formality, and it only stoked his anger.

"My business concluded early. And I told you we would be married. In under two months. You cannot decide  _now_  to take holy orders. Again."

"I can and I will. As you pointed out, you  _told_  me we would be married. You never asked. And moving up the date on me was unkind—whatever happened to 'when the king returns'? I have decided that since my presence here is obviously a distraction, I will simply have to go elsewhere. Besides, I have been feeling lost since my father died. I should like to have some time to come to terms with my feelings. Perhaps a year or two living with the sisters…"

"A year or two?" Guy broke in incredulously. "I cannot let you do it, Marian. Guards!" he called to the waiting men as he strode from the room.

"What are you doing?" Marian demanded as the guards hurried in to her chambers and stood before Guy, awaiting his orders.

His words were to the guards, but for her as well; he looked at her with hot anger in his eyes.

"See to it the Lady Marian does not leave her room." He turned to leave as Marian cried out and lunged after him, only to be stopped by the guards. Turning back, he fixed her in his gaze again. "Make no mistake, Marian, we will be married this time."

* * *

Allan and Deirdre strolled back into camp around midday. Deirdre yawned and stretched before kissing her husband and heading for their bower for an afternoon nap. Allan grabbed a bowl of venison and a hunk of bread before sitting by the fire, hungrily tearing into both.

"What?" he asked at the bemused expressions on the faces of Robin and Little John. Much had gone to acquire more bread, while Will and Djaq were skulking around Nottingham for any information that the gang might find useful. Robin was concerned for Marian, and if she didn't get out of Nottingham soon, he would go and liberate her, whether she liked it or not.

Little John and Robin shared a knowing look; it was Little John who responded.

"So, things're back to normal with you two?"

"Yeah." Allan kept his answer short as he was busy chewing and swallowing.

"You seem to have worked up quite an appetite," Robin added with a sly grin.

"Yeah." Allan quickly raised a cup of ale to his lips to wash down the food, a rare blush staining his cheeks as he felt his groin tighten in remembrance of the morning and the night before spent with Deirdre. He was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of Djaq, followed closely by Much, who stored the bread, talking all the while of the latest gossip from Clun, though no one was listening, their eyes focused on Djaq's serious face. Robin stood up quickly, his joviality gone in an instant.

"What's wrong?" he bit off.

Much still hadn't noticed the sudden tension in the camp. "I just told you—Mrs. Gray's cock has been waking everyone up in the middle of the night and will soon be in a pot if he keeps it up…" Much turned, the smile on his face disappearing at everyone else's intense focus on Djaq. "What?"

Djaq spoke then, having regained her breath from her long run back to camp. "Gisbourne returned early from London. He found out that Marian had spoken to the sheriff about going to Kirklees. He was not pleased."

"I'm not bein' funny, but who cares if Guy's 'pleased'? It ain't like 'e's in charge or nothin'. So'd the sheriff say it was okay or what?"

Djaq continued, "Guy has locked her in her room. He claims she will stay there until they are married. He has moved up the date, to this Sunday."

Allan sobered quickly as he thought back to when Guy had locked Deirdre in her room in preparation for marrying  _her_.

"What is it with Guy and lockin' up 'is brides?" Allan spoke to no one in particular.

"It's the only way he can keep a woman," Robin responded darkly.

"Yeah, well, we proved 'im wrong on that before, eh?" Allan gestured with his head toward the bower where Deirdre slept.

Robin's face was grim. "Today is Tuesday. We need a plan. We get her out. Tonight. The longer we wait, the more paranoid Guy will get and the tighter his security will be."

Allan nodded mute agreement as the others responded in kind and they all sat to quickly hatch a plan of rescue.

As the others gathered their weapons, Allan stepped inside the bower to tell Deirdre where they were off to. His wife lay on their bed facing the door, eyes closed, lashes splayed across her upper cheekbone. One arm was curled up under her head, the other lay protectively over her growing belly; her legs were slightly bent, one foot sticking out from under the light blanket she had pulled over herself. Her breathing was deep and even. Allan decided to leave her alone and let her get her rest—they would be back the next day anyway and Deirdre was smart enough to figure that if they were gone, they would not be so for long.

As Allan ducked back outside the bower, he was in time to hear Robin telling Djaq, "Stay here with Deirdre. We'll be back before dawn."

Djaq nodded and moved to sit by the fire. "Will is at the Trip," she advised as the men hurried away. 


	16. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian needs rescuing from Guy again. But will the gang have such an easy time of it? Doubt it.

Chapter Sixteen: Rescue

Deirdre awoke to moonlight filtering through the branches that covered the bower she and Allan shared. She heard the hoot of an owl, the rustling of small animals trying to make their way back to their homes before the owl found them out, the sighing of the night breeze as it tickled its way through the higher branches on the trees. What she didn't hear was the sound of voices pitched low out of habit or the soft snoring of her husband asleep next to her. Puzzled, she rose from her bed and peeked out at the camp. Djaq looked up from her seat by the fire and smiled at Deirdre, a knife in one hand, a small piece of wood in the other.

Deirdre picked her way over and sat by the small fire with Djaq.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"They have gone to Nottingham," Djaq replied succinctly, suddenly finding renewed interest in her carving.

Deirdre's stomach rumbled, reminding her that the last time she had eaten had been the night before, and she set to work making some dinner, picking up the bread Much had brought in earlier. She cut chunks of dried beef, then took turnips, carrots and onions from the larder and began chopping them, putting them into a pot with some water and placed the whole carefully over the fire, stoking it with more wood.

"What for?" Deirdre asked, stirring the pot.

Djaq looked at the other woman, non-plussed. "I'm sorry?"

"What did they go to Nottingham for? And when did they leave?" Deirdre never stopped stirring, hoping the simple action would mask her disquiet.

Djaq hesitated, the knife stopping in mid-stroke before she began carving again. "They went to get Marian."

Deirdre stopped the spoon, raising her eyes to cock one eyebrow disbelievingly at Djaq. "Don't you mean, 'rescue Marian'?"

Djaq stopped carving again and looked up to meet Deirdre's steady gaze. "Yes."

"What happened?" Deirdre looked through her herbs carefully, choosing thyme and parsley to flavor the stew.

"Gisbourne has her locked up until the wedding."

Deirdre snorted, then pursed her lips thoughtfully as she set the lid on the pot and carefully removed a few of the burning pieces of wood, putting them out in the sand, so that the now-boiling food would not burn. Once more picking up the bread, she sat and offered a piece to Djaq while they waited for the stew to cook.

"He seems to make a habit of that, locking up potential brides." Deirdre looked inquiringly at Djaq. "So why are you here and not with the others?" At Djaq's look of embarrassment, Deirdre nodded in understanding. "You're here to make sure I don't do something stupid."

"Deirdre, I am sorry…" Djaq began

Deirdre spoke through tight lips. "No. I deserve it. Although, after last night, I would've thought Allan would trust me more."

"It was not Allan; it was Robin who asked me to stay. Perhaps it is you who should trust Allan more. He only wants to do what is right by you. We all do."

Deirdre's face flamed red in embarrassment at Djaq's words. She was beginning to get a little sick of the taste of the crow she kept having to eat.

"You're right, Djaq. I've been awful lately. It's just…it's like I said before; it's difficult to lose so much freedom so suddenly. To be outlawed by Prince John himself and not able to see my family anymore, to be pregnant and not able to ride and fight and steal and dance and…"

"Wait! Who said you cannot dance?"

"Well, I just thought with all the rest…"

"Can you walk? Can you run? Has Madeline said you cannot dance?"

"Well yes, I mean, no…I mean, of course I can walk and run and Madeline has not said that I cannot dance."

"Come on then, get up!" Djaq urged, standing and holding out her hand to help Deirdre to rise. Djaq began singing a song from her childhood in Acre and the two women swayed in time as Djaq taught Deirdre the complicated dance pattern, a story told in subtle movements of hips and hands. Next, Deirdre taught Djaq a romping jig, the women's feet moving so fast they nearly tripped. A few more songs and the girls collapsed, breathing heavily in exhaustion and laughing hard.

Catching her breath, Deirdre smiled at Djaq. "I'm sorry, Djaq."

"For what?" the Saracen woman asked, still laughing.

"For the things I said on the road to Scarborough. I know you have feelings for Will, not Allan. And more importantly, I know Allan's feelings for me are too strong for him to stray."

"No apology needed. And you're wrong about one thing—I do love Allan, but only as a brother, nothing more."

Deirdre smiled in acknowledgement, the grin fading as an owl hooted and she realized that the men were not back yet. Djaq placed a hand on her arm in empathy.

"They may not be back until morning, perhaps later. You should get some rest."

Deirdre nodded mutely as Djaq banked the fire, and they went to their beds. Her eyelids felt too heavy to hold up; despite the thoughts racing through her mind and her worry for the gang, her body was forcing her to rest. She had no intention of breaking her word to Allan about staying out of trouble for now, but if they were not back soon, she would have to go looking, with or without Djaq.

* * *

 

Nottingham had been easy to get into before dark, as was usually the case, and the gang had passed the time until the sun set handing out small bags of money to the people and chatting with the merchants. As darkness fell, they had slipped one by one into the castle to gather in the chapel, a place they knew would be unpopulated by Vasey and his ilk. They slept in shifts, waiting for night to turn to early morning, when everyone would be deep asleep, before starting out.

"Much, John, you're with me," Robin spoke softly into the silent oratory, before turning to Will and Allan. "You two, guard our escape; we'll go out through the kitchen. Let's go, Lads," he added, turning back to Much and John. The five men made their way out of the chapel, splitting into their groups in the hall; Robin's group went upstairs to the living quarters, Will and Allan went down the hall to the kitchen.

As they made their way up the stairs, Robin's senses went on alert. It seemed every step of his booted feet on the stones resonated throughout the castle; he could smell the dampness of the cool rock and feel how it was worn smooth under his hand as he trailed it along the wall. The breathing of his companions seemed like a call to arms and he tried to stop his own breathing as the loudness made him scream for silence inside his head.

He had his sword in the hand that was not on the wall, the weight of it his only reassurance. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest and despite the coolness, his brow broke out in sweat. Every step brought him closer to his love, but he would not be happy until they were safely away in Sherwood. He watched the shadows dancing along the roof as he neared the top of the stairs; the shadows grew darker and darker as the torches were extinguished by the servants, until only two remained—the two on either side of the door to Marian's room. Robin, closely followed by Much and John, crept up into the corridor, staying to the unlighted areas. Robin peeked around a bit of wall and was nearly undone as Guy strode up, berating his guards for slackness and grabbing one of the torches. Gisbourne began walking toward them, carrying the torch in one hand, his sword in the other, seemingly on alert as he began re-lighting the just extinguished torches.

* * *

 

In the kitchen, Allan and Will had cleared a path to the door and stood on alert at either end, Allan gnawing hungrily on a pie from the larder as he stood by the door leading to the outside. Will stood guard by the short flight of steps that led up to the main floor, careful to stay out of sight. He looked at Allan eating the pie and shook his head; Allan caught the motion from the corner of his eye and raised his eyebrows at Will.

"What?" he whispered defensively.

"Nothing. It's just…how can you eat at a time like this?"

"Well, I gotta eat, don' I?"

"Yeah, aren't you nervous being here again? Plus, if we don't rescue Marian, she'll have to marry Gisbourne."

"Naaa. I've already nipped one bride from 'im. Piece o' cake!" Allan responded, lifting the pie to his friend. "Besides, you wait'll Djaq gets her claws in you—ain't much gonna scare you after that. After the stunts Deirdre pulls, this ain't nothin'!"

Will snorted and turned back to the stairs, mounting them carefully to peer around the corner—and came face-to-face with half a dozen guards.

* * *

 

Guy tossed and turned in his bed, his mind unable to shut down. The last time he had locked up a bride, someone—presumably Allan A' Dale—had managed to help her escape. He had been a laughing stock. He would see to it that did not happen this time.

In the small hours of the morning, he threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, deciding to check on Marian himself. As he rounded the corner to her rooms, he found the hallway too dark. He harangued the guards for their laxness, then grabbed one of the torches to begin lighting the hallway.

He kept his sword in one hand, just in case, and as he neared the stairs, he was glad of it. The last torch he lit revealed the hiding place of Robin Hood and two of his men. "Guards!" he shouted as he began fighting them, repeating the call over and over until the outlaws' escape was blocked by men coming up the stairs and more swarming the hallway. It was not long until the three men were beaten, standing with heads thrown back as the guardsmen stood with swords at the outlaws' necks.

* * *

 

Will ducked back down the stairs, shouting a warning to Allan, who dropped the pie and drew his sword. The two men fought, side-by-side, trying to clear enough space to be able to open the door. Swords clashed, steel on steel, as Allan met his attackers; one of them slipped in the pie and went down, slamming his head into the hard-packed earth of the floor. Allan ducked behind Will in an effort to open the door to their escape, but as soon as he pulled it open, he was met by the surprised face of George, Gisbourne's new lieutenant. Allan remembered George as being a sullen underling, and his most enthusiastic torturer outside of Letum when Guy had thrown him in prison last time. Unfortunately, George was with two other men, on watch.

Allan turned back to see what their chances were of going back through the kitchen, but Will had been disarmed and stood surrounded by guards. Allan fought like a demon, but soon was overtaken as Will was trussed and the extra guards attacked him from behind; he turned to face his new attackers and George took the opportunity to slam the pommel of his sword into the base of Allan's neck, knocking him out instantly.

* * *

 

_In the dungeon, Allan awoke to pain. He looked around blankly for a moment, and then swallowed noisily as realization dawned; he hung from the ceiling, watching the rack being prepared for him. Guards were placing sharp stones on it, while another flogged his bare back, eliciting cries of pain. He was sweating profusely from the heat of the fires, the pain, and the fear. Too soon, they took him down and slammed him onto the stones, chaining him in place, and the pain was so intense, it was like a thousand suns burning his back-side, while the torturer leaned over him, grinning evilly. The cold steel of the sharp, serrated hook felt good for a moment before it was cruelly thrust into the flesh of his belly and twisted, tearing his guts up. A moment later and the torturer yanked his intestines out, white snakes dripping blood, to show to their former owner. Allan's eyelids fluttered as he gave in to the peace of death._

Deirdre awoke with a scream that silenced the early-morning twittering of the birds, the nightmare launching her body out of the bed. She ran for the door of the bower, bumping into Djaq as she opened it. Djaq's eyes were huge in her small face.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

Deirdre swallowed, the fear stopping her words. She shook her head and began grabbing knives, placing them carefully in boot-strops, under her pant-legs, up her shirt-sleeves. Her face was grim as she worked. Finally she spoke.

"We must go to Nottingham. Something has happened. Allan is in trouble."

Djaq's face blanched further. "How do you know?"

"I just do, is all. We cannot waste another minute."

"Deirdre, calm down. We will go, but we must be cautious. I will go to town and see what I can find."

Deirdre set her shoulders, her stubborn steak coming out. "I'll not stay behind. Allan's in danger, as are they all, and there's not much time."

Djaq didn't know how the woman could know such a thing, but she could see it would be more fight than she was willing to give to keep Deirdre in the camp. The two set off for Nottingham to learn what they could.


	17. Wiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deirdre and Djaq discover that the gang is has been caught and is to be hung at dawn. They hatch a rescue plan, but will it work?

Chapter Seventeen: Wiles

In the dungeons, the gang languished at the back of the cell, conserving energy so that when an opportunity presented itself, they would be able to escape. Breakfast had been served when they heard the creak of the metal door and then the shuffle and jangle that meant that the sheriff and Gisbourne were approaching. Vasey nearly hopped up the steps, hands clasped behind his back, humming merrily to himself as he surveyed the incarcerated outlaws. Behind him, Guy seemed just as pleased, though in a more controlled way—his eyes cold, his smile showing no teeth.

"Well, well, well. Gisbourne, you've outdone yourself; not just Robin Hood, but all of his little friends as well. Oh, I even see your old playmate with them! How very nice," the sheriff added smugly, looking over the cell. "Left the little women at home, did we? That's all right, they'll be easy enough to catch now without their men to guard them."

Allan was the first to speak up, the lie tripping easily off his tongue. "We sent 'em away. Knew you lot'd be good an' stoked after the last time we beat you. They're livin' with relatives of Djaq's in Germany."

"Germany, eh? You sent your new wife off to Germany, while you're here? I don't think so,  _Allan_." Vasey spoke Allan's name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"You think he'd keep her here, with Gisbourne after her and the prince mad at her?" Robin asked. "We sent the women where we knew they'd be safe from you lot. Soon, Richard'll be home and we can bring them back, but until then, we know you can't lay hands on them."

Vasey's smile faltered, and Guy's turned to a snarl.

"No matter. There'll soon be no one for them to come home to. Enjoy your stay. You'll be hung tomorrow morning. And then, I think I'll send your heads to Prince John to show him my loyalty. Yes, I like that." Vasey turned and jounced out of the dungeon, whistling merrily.

* * *

 In the town, Deirdre had spoken to the baker who supplied the castle with their bread. The man recognized her, but would say nothing to endanger the Lady Deirdre, who had given his family so much the previous winter. He had heard a rumor that Robin Hood and his men had been captured and sent to the dungeons.

"I'll send Rufus to find out for sure," he offered, calling over his young son.

"Wait." Deirdre grabbed the boy before he could scamper off. She bent to look him level in the eye. "Find out where they are, if they are all in one cell, how many guards, when are they scheduled for execution. It is very important you get me all of this information, Rufus. And be careful, do you understand?"

"Yes, Milady." Rufus had eaten last winter largely because of the Lady Deirdre's kindness—he would never let her down; he scampered off with the load of bread his father had supplied him as a reason for entering the dungeons.

Deirdre and Djaq passed the time hiding behind the blanket that separated the family's home from the bakery. They remained quiet to avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. After what seemed an interminably long time, Rufus returned, panting from the run back home.

Deirdre jumped up, grabbing hold of the boy once more, looking down at him this time rather than kneeling. "Well, lad, what did you learn?"

Rufus swallowed, trying to catch his breath still; Djaq handed the boy a cup of water and gently pulled Deirdre's hands from the child's shoulders. Deirdre watched impatiently as the boy swallowed the water, biting her tongue to keep from screaming.

"They're to be 'ung tomorrow, first thing. Then Sheriff's gonna take their 'eads and send 'em to Prince John!"

Deirdre swayed, hanging her head and closing her eyes for a moment as Djaq thanked young Rufus and asked him for the rest of the information before she sent him on his way. "We were never here," the Saracen admonished the boy.

"You were right. They are in trouble. I don't know how you knew and right now it does not matter. What matters is, how do we rescue them?"

Deirdre wrinkled her nose at the strong alcoholic odor of the yeast that was used to help the bread rise, her brow furrowed as she worried her lower lip. "I know how. Come with me." Deirdre rose and beckoned for Djaq to follow her and they snuck back to camp.

* * *

 In the dank coolness of the dungeon, the men looked at the midday meal they were handed—stale bread nearly hard enough to use as a weapon and porridge that seemed to be moving of its own volition. They set it aside, figuring that if they were to die, they would rather do it on an empty stomach than eat  _that_  food.

Allan grinned at Will, who had turned a particularly odd shade of green. "Now don't you wish you'd 'ad a pie, too?" he teased.

"How can you joke around at a time like this?" the young man demanded, holding out his arms to highlight the chains which bound the outlaws' hands and legs. They were not bound to each other, but each man's leg irons were bound to the same man's wrist irons; they could move about, just not quickly.

"Well, lessee. Last time I was 'ere, I was on a rack of stones in the torture chamber; that after the fellow'd laid my back open a bit. I'd been beaten 'til I couldn't stand and my shoulders was killin' me from 'anging by my arms from the ceiling. This is right cozy, compared."

Robin, leaning on the bars, smiled grimly at Allan's seeming ease. “We have to get out of here, lads. If we don't…"

"…the sheriff'll 'ave our heads," Allan finished cheekily.

"You seem awfully at ease for a man who's set to hang," Robin grumbled.

"Well, we been 'ere before, ain't we? And we always manage to get out. You'll see—someone'll mess up and we'll be back at camp, getting' a tongue-lashin' from Deirdre and Djaq before dawn."

Robin glowered at the older man, who looked innocently up and shrugged his shoulders, the chains on his wrists rattling with the movement.

* * *

 Back in the sheriff's quarters, Guy was getting his own tongue-lashing from Vasey.

"Why did we not know the women were gone, Gisbourne? We need to know everything…everything!" he shouted.

Guy cleared his throat. "My Lord, I hardly think that matters anymore. Soon, the outlaws will hang. Even if the women were here, what could they possibly do? They are women."

"True, true. Just the same, when this is over, I'm sending you to Germany to find those two. It shouldn't be hard—a Saracen and an Irishwoman; they'll stick out like sore thumbs."

"But My Lord, I am set to marry Marian this Sunday!"

"Yes, yes. Take her to Germany for a little romantic trip, if you like, but I’d advise keeping her tied up the whole time. Wouldn’t want her escaping into the wilds of that hideous country, would you?"

* * *

 At the campsite, Deirdre went to the treasury "room" and began pulling trunks out. Djaq simply stared in consternation.

"Djaq, I need you to go to Madeline's. Ask her for an herb. It's called valerian. Tell her I need the oil of it. Be cautious, it's…"

"I know. But what do you need it for, especially right now?"

"Just get it Djaq, please! We have to hurry."

Djaq nodded and scrambled off to Madeline's as Deirdre turned back and began rooting through the trunks.

* * *

Night fell, but in the windowless world of Nottingham's dungeons, there was nothing to mark the change, save for the change in the guard and another vile “meal”. The guards on the day shift had been men Allan had been friendly with when he had been "Sir Guy's man", and the outlaws had been left alone. Allan had tried to convince them to let him go, but they had fearfully spoken of their families, of the consequences for letting the outlaws escape. The night shift was another matter; they were two of George's men, men who held no love for Allan A' Dale. The two guards made a game of throwing small stones at the outlaws until Robin and the others began returning the stones, with much better accuracy. Glowering and rubbing their wounds, the men returned to a small table and chairs to pass the time playing knucklebones.

Hours later, after their supper had been eaten and cleared, the men were leaning back in their chairs, bored senseless. The sound of feminine laughter had them rising quickly, the front legs of their chairs slamming to the ground in their haste. As they stood, a blonde woman stumbled through the door, giggling and holding her finger to her mouth as she blinked at her darker companion. In her other hand was a flagon of wine.

"Shhhh," the blonde woman noisily admonished the other, who was obviously her servant.

"My Lady, we should not be down here." The servant glanced nervously at the guards.

"Sara, you're no fun. You're as boring as my ancient husband."

The lady turned eyes of guileless blue on the men and they felt their groins tighten in response as she licked her lips, biting the bottom one and grinning at them impishly.

"Now these two strapping men are what my father  _should_  have chosen for me, not that old goat I'm stuck with now."

The small blonde woman put a finger in her mouth and scraped it with her teeth before sucking on it as she removed it, letting her eyes travel up and down the soldiers' bodies. The men watched in fascination as she stretched, a yawn escaping her pretty mouth, her breasts thrust forward and clearly straining the material of the dress. The woman put her hands on her back, thrusting her hips forward and revealing the soft swell of her belly.

The brown-haired guard licked his lips. "Beggin' your pardon, Milady, but it's obvious your husband is not  _that_  old." He indicated her belly with a nod of his head.

The lady came out of her stretch and nearly fell, her laughter floating up as the man caught her and smelled the wine on her breath. The woman pressed her body against his, her soft breasts had him hardening painfully.

"Who says  _this_  is from the old man?" She looked at him knowingly and his eyes widened. Here was a chance at some fun, if they could just get rid of the servant; but now the darker woman was flirting with his partner, so maybe the four of them could go to an empty cell.

The woman leaned in closer, so close he could see her cleavage as he looked down. She opened his shirt and he felt her fingertips graze his chest. He grinned wickedly as she ducked her head and he felt something dampen his chest, thinking it was her tongue before realizing she had spilled some of the wine on him. She looked innocently at him, raising the cup to his lips, then looking over his shoulder to the caged outlaws as the sergeant drank.

"You want some of this too?" she asked boldly before patting the guard's shirt and flouncing away to the cell, leaving the cup in the man's hands.

One of the prisoners—their former boss, Allan A' Dale—pressed against the bars seeming to reach for the lady as she sauntered closer. The guard watched, grinning, as she ran her hand up and down the man's chest, then pulled laughingly away as he leaned toward her. She returned to the guard, who caught her up, spinning her to a chair where he set her on his lap. She continued to drink, offering him the cup as well; his partner and the servant were also drinking and laughing by now, but soon he ignored them as he wrapped his arms around the lady.

* * *

 Allan's face went pale, then livid, as he watched Deirdre stumble drunkenly into the chamber, then begin fawning all over the sergeant of the night watch. Even though he knew she must be running a con—especially after he noticed Djaq also flirting with a guard—it still annoyed him to watch his wife being so friendly with another man.

As she caught his eye and sashayed over to the cell where he was being held, he reached for her, hoping to dissuade her from continuing. She rubbed his chest, and whispered quickly in his ear before going back to the guard. Allan nearly burst with anger as the man grabbed Deirdre and flipped her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. He thought of what he was going to do to the man as he turned away and discreetly reached for the key to the shackles Deirdre had already nicked. She was good, that was certain. She was also in so much trouble when they got back to camp.


	18. Chapter 18: Just Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a rescue, but who is rescuing whom?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a rather wild, rather graphic sex scene in this chapter.

Chapter Eighteen: Just Women

Deirdre felt the bile rise in her throat as the sergeant ground her into his lap; she could feel that he was hard for her and wished the valerian mixture would hurry and do its work. The man leaned forward to kiss her, one hand reaching for her breast, and Deirdre swatted the hand away, giggling to ease the sting as she noticed his shocked expression.

"Now, now, Milady—it's not nice to be a tease. A man might take what you're offerin' even if you change your mind."

Deirdre tore free of the sergeant's grasp with effort, satisfied to see his movements were sluggish; the valerian was beginning to do its work. She bent over the other side of the table, allowing the soldier another glimpse of her cleavage, and feigned interest in the game the men had been playing. A crash behind the sergeant alerted her that the other soldier had succumbed to the valerian oil that had been sloshed onto the men's chests and was in the wine the women had only pretended to drink. The sergeant turned around to look, eyes widening in comprehension too late; he reached for his sword, but Djaq had already grabbed the other man's sword and as Deirdre grabbed his arm to distract him and keep him seated, Djaq slammed the pommel into the base of the man's neck. The women watched as the sergeant fell to the ground, and then went to help the gang, who were unshackled. Allan stood at the door, working on the lock with the key, his face a mask of fury.

To Deirdre's surprise, once he had the door open, he turned his anger on the guard, striding over to relieve the man of his sword; Deirdre grabbed his arm as Allan raised the sword overhead to strike a killing blow.

"Allan!"

Allan barely felt the tug on his arm, but before he could swing, Robin and Little John were also there, keeping him from killing the guard.

"Allan." Deirdre spoke more softly now, putting herself in front of him so that he could see her face. "It's over. You're free. For now. But we need to leave. Now. Before they wake up. Come on, Mo Croi. Take me home."

The moment stretched as the gang looked nervously at the couple, and then Deirdre's words seemed to sink in and Allan grabbed her by the arm, propelling her toward the door.

* * *

 

Guy knocked on Marian’s door, feeling almost giddy. When she called out, he entered the room. She stood by the window, an afternoon breeze ruffling her hair. He couldn’t believe that she would be his in less than a week. He noticed the frown on her face. She was angry with him. No matter. She would grow to love him. Or not. But not even her anger could dim his good mood. He inclined his head.

“Marian.”

“What do you want, Sir Guy?”

“I thought we were past formalities.”

“We were. Until you imprisoned me.”

Guy looked around at her room, at the oversized bed, at the comfortable chairs and table before the fire, the armoire full of clothing. He gave her a bemused smile. “You have all that you need, and more.”

“A gilded cage is still a cage.”

He chuckled. “Never satisfied, are you, Marian? Try not to drain my income too much when we are married, eh?”

He chucked her chin and she pulled away, moving to the other side of the room. His good mood faltered. “I bring you good news. The outlaws have been captured. They will be hung at dawn.”

Marian started. “All of them?”

Guy snorted. “Well, not the women. The rabble claimed they had sent the women on to Germany. Don’t worry. We’ll find them. What say you to a trip to the continent once we are wed, Marian?”

“I say why wait? Let’s go now.”

Guy’s eyes widened in surprise before he frowned. “So you can try to escape before becoming my bride?”

“I…”

“Enough! Enough of your lies and deceptions, woman. The outlaws will hang at dawn, freeing the sheriff of their irritating presence. This Sunday, you and I shall be wed, and once we have made our marriage official, I shall tie you up and drag you to Germany, where we will find the women and see them hung, as well.” Guy strode to the door, wrenching it open. He turned back to look at her. “I will have you, Marian.” With that, he left, slamming the door to her prison room once more.

* * *

 

Marian paced restlessly as the sun began to set. She had to figure a way out of her room. If she could get to the forest, Djaq and Deirdre would help her to rescue the men. She couldn’t let Robin hang. Not if she could save him. A knock on the door meant the maid was there with her supper. “Come in,” she called.

The old woman entered, followed by a guard. _So much for my plan of changing clothes with her and sneaking past the guards._ The maid put the food on the table and left, followed by the guard. But he hadn’t made it out of the door before Marian struck, hitting him in his back with the cup. He turned and she splashed the hot soup in his face, then tried to scamper past him. He was angry, and temporarily blinded, but he reached out and caught hold of her while the other man blocked the doorway.

The second guard grabbed her by the hair, lifting her up. She squealed and batted at his arm, to no avail. He was much taller than she was. The first guard stumbled out the door, then the second threw her to the floor, sending her halfway to her bed. “You’ll regret that. You’ll get no more food until morning. Damned shame Sir Guy’s got it in mind to marry you, _Milady_ , or I’d find a way to _punish_ you myself.” His over-familiar gaze raked over her body, making her feel naked despite the clothes on her back. The guard gave her one last sneer before he closed the door and shot the lock.

Marian got up and dusted her bottom off, then went over to the fireplace and banked the fire for the night. She picked a taper out of the lowered flames and lit the candles around the room as darkness began to settle in. She threw the faggot back into the fire, then rested her head on her arms against the mantle. She stared into the fireplace and sighed in frustration.

The windows were too narrow and high up; if she did not find a way to break her fall, she would die on the ground or at least be injured beyond an ability to help the men or herself. The door was obviously well-guarded, and by at least one man who had it out for her now. She pushed against stones around the mantle—after all, when Deirdre stayed here, they had discovered passages behind some of the rooms. Nothing happened. She sat in a chair and stared into the lowering flames as darkness settled in. As she watched the flames begin to die, an idea occurred to her. It was dangerous, and it might not work, but it was truly her only choice.

* * *

 

The gang made their way unmolested in the dark until they reached the hallway outside Marian’s room. That area of the castle was lit up like day and fairly swarming with guards. From the relative safety of an adjoining hall, Robin peered around the corner then flopped back against the wall, exhaling quietly in frustration.

He held up his hands, extending one finger at a time until all of them were straight, including his thumbs. Allan’s face fell. Ten guards. That Robin could see. There were sure to be additional in hiding close by. Allan glanced nervously behind them. He wasn’t afraid of a fight, but those odds were not great. He wanted to just get Deirdre home, as she had asked him to do, but he did not want to leave the gang if they decided to fight.

John bent forward, speaking softly. “Robin. That is too many. We will come back for her. We still have time.”

“We do not. She is to marry him in four days. I have to rescue her, John. I have to. Tonight. Now. Once the sheriff finds out that we have escaped, Gisbourne will lock her down even tighter. And once she has spoken vows with him, once they have…” Robin stopped, his face a mask of fury.

Allan knew exactly how Robin was feeling. The thought of Gisbourne’s hands on his own Deirdre made his blood boil. Let alone…

Deirdre whispered, “Djaq and I distracted the guards in the jail. We could—”

“No.” Allan’s whisper was louder than he intended it to be. Will’s denial joined his.

“Then what amazing plan do you have? Any of you?” Deirdre put her hands to her hips, looking around at them, her stance that of an angry mother to her children.

Silence.

“I thought so.” She moved forward, toward the hall. Allan’s hand on her arm stopped her. She glanced down at his hand and up to his face. “I love you. I’ll be careful. As soon as you engage the guards, I will back away, stay out of the fighting. I promise.”

“I will guard her while you all take out the guards.” Djaq moved into the whispered discussion. “Surely ten guards is not too many for five strong, burly warriors like yourselves. And if it is, then we will have to help. So if you want us out of it, make sure to not need us. In the meantime…”

Djaq tittered. Will’s eyes flew wide in horror. Allan tried to clap his free hand over Deirdre’s mouth, but too late. She giggled and squirmed free. She and Djaq linked arms and stumbled out into the hallway that ran in front of Marian’s room. The guards looked up, most of them standing tall, hands on their swords, and looking around warily. But a few grinned and relaxed at the drunken women tripping down the hallway.

Allan peeked around the corner, nervous as a bride as his wife tripped and fell against one of the guards. _That man is light of his purse right now_ , he thought darkly. Djaq pulled Deirdre to her feet, the guard helping to right her, a huge grin on his face. Deirdre held a finger to her lips. “Shhhhh,” she whispered loudly, then giggled.

She fell backward, toward Marian’s door. “I must get to my room. I think I need to be ill.” She clapped a hand to her mouth and turned to the door, bending over in front of the guards there. They moved quickly aside as Deirdre made retching sounds, one hand on the door. The guards were good and distracted, their noses wrinkled as they watched in horror.

Allan waved the gang forward and they spread out, taking out their first victims before the remaining five reacted and engaged them, swords drawn. The noise was deafening in the narrow hallway, making their task even more urgent. An eternity later, with thankfully no additional support running around the corners, the last of the guards crumpled.

Robin opened the door cautiously and peered inside. The room was empty and dark, except for a few tapers burning low on various surfaces. He peeked behind the door, half expecting to get his skull caved in by someone hiding there. “Marian?” he whispered. No response. He stalked over to the window, but it was closed, the catch on the closures set to from the inside. He stared around in confusion, running a hand through his hair and exhaling loudly. “I think we’ve been duped, Gang. I don’t know where she is, but she’s not here.”

“We should leave.” Much stared around wildly at the empty room. “We’ll find her, Robin. But we should leave. Surely more guards will be on the way soon. Or some of those guards will come to. Or the ones from the dungeon. Either way, the alarm will soon be rung and the castle will be swarming with guards looking for us.”

Robin’s face fell as he looked around at the people depending on him. There was no choice. Marian was not where she was supposed to be. There was no time to figure out where she really was. He would figure it out. If they had to pose as musicians for the wedding, they would still rescue her. He sighed in defeat and nodded. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

The rest of the castle and the bailey were still miraculously silent, but the gates were shut and well-guarded. They would have to go up to go out—at night, the walls were guarded by a skeleton crew. The first guard they came across crumbled silently to the ground with help from Little John's staff; the second man proved not so easy and a brief sword fight ensued. Robin, in the lead now, crossed swords as the guard called out for them to halt. The wall was narrow and only one man could fight at a time. The gang watched anxiously, guarding their rear, as the fight took longer than it should have and began to attract attention. If the fight did not end soon, Allan, who was guarding their rear, would be in sword fights of his own as more guards arrived. The gang could already hear them rousing.

Little John watched in horror as a dark shape appeared behind the guard Robin was fighting—more guards increased their chances of being caught again, and this time, they would likely hang right away. The figure stepped forward, landing a blow to the soldier's kidneys which brought him to his knees, then wrapping a garrote of some sort around the man's throat. In moments, the man was unconscious, but the bailey was coming alive. The figure stepped out of the shadows, hissing at Robin.

"Hurry, help me with this!" Marian held out the sheets she had used to strangle the guard and Robin grabbed the end, tying it around the closest crenellation. Marian and the sheets were both covered with soot, but there would be time for explanations later. Robin urged Little John to step up on the merlon first; he grabbed the make-shift rope and began lowering himself quickly. Once Little John's feet hit the ground, Robin sent Much down, so that the two men could guard the descent of the women from the bottom, while he and Allan and Will guarded from the top. Once the women were all safely on the ground, first Will and then Allan went over. As Robin was climbing over, guards swarmed the rampart. Robin lowered himself quickly, the rope sliding between his hands, burning his palms. He jumped the last ten feet and started to run for the trees, but not everyone was running.

Marian had stopped, desperately rummaging in her skirts. She took out a box. A moment later, a spark lit the night. She placed it against the sheets and they began to burn. Only then did she turn and run with the gang, just as more guards with bows arrived and arrows began raining down along their path. They arrived unscathed at the treeline and turned for a moment to look back. There was no pursuit, only guards cursing roundly as they tried to put out the fire.

* * *

 

The gang ran until they were back inside the camp, where they quickly closed the camouflaged door. Robin swept Marian up into his arms in complete and utter relief.

"How did you get out of that room?" he asked unbelievingly. "And how did you get so dirty?"

Marian swiped at the soot that covered her from head to toe. "I went out the chimney," she replied simply.

Deirdre and Allan grinned impishly at each other over the simplicity of the idea.

"So my plan to rescue you was  _completely_  unnecessary?" Robin asked, holding her close.

Marian smirked up at him. "I was actually coming to rescue  _you_  when I saw all of you on the battlements."

"Does this mean you're one of us now? No more nonsense about Kirklees or marrying Guy?"

Marian's lips turned up and she nodded at him as his mouth lowered to meet hers.

Allan smiled and steered Deirdre toward their bower; he hadn't taken his hands off of her since they had escaped the dungeon, except when she had gone over the wall. Once they were inside, his smile abruptly disappeared. He sat on the bed, pulling her to him and holding her tight as he nuzzled her neck. Suddenly realizing that his actions mirrored those of the sergeant, he jumped up, nearly spilling Deirdre to the floor. Quickly, he undressed her, tossing the blue silk dress and the shift onto the ground. Allan sat her on the bed and bent to unlace her boots, which he also threw aside. He reached up for the combs in her hair and shook out the golden mass, pulling some of it over her shoulder to twirl between his fingers before pushing her gently back to lie on the bed. He stood and undressed himself, far more quickly and violently than he had undressed her.

Deirdre wanted to say something, but the intensity in his eyes made her shut her mouth on a sarcastic comment. Allan lay beside her, pulling her to him as he kissed her deeply, tweaking a nipple with his fingers before moving his hand down to stroke her flank, delving deeply between her folds to make her as ready for him as he was for her. He rolled her onto her back and moved to kiss her face, her neck, her shoulders. He worked his way down to suckle each nipple, then feathered her belly gently with his lips. Allan's mouth traveled lower still, all the way down one leg, then back up the next, taking possession of the juncture where her thigh met her torso, kissing and suckling one side before moving on to the other.

Deirdre felt like she would go mad from the pleasure of it and then he was laving her slit with his tongue, lapping at her like a cat lapping milk. Allan pulled her nub into his mouth and suckled hard, and Deirdre nearly fainted with the effort to not cry out. She dug her fingers into his shoulders at his continued assault, biting her lip and whimpering when his tongue delved into her.

Allan wanted to kiss and lick her everywhere, marking her body as  _his_. Back in the cell, he had wanted to leap through the bars to pull Deirdre out of the sergeant's grasp. He had wanted to scream at the man to take his hands off of  _his_  wife, but had known that would blow the con and endanger both Deirdre and Djaq. Then, her distraction of the guards outside of Marian’s room had him screaming inside again. The run for the ramparts, then down and over, and back to camp had still not assuaged his need for violence.

Standing at the end of the bed, he yanked Deirdre's body toward him, pulling her hips up and wrapping her legs around his body. All of his pent-up emotion was coming out. He felt like he was still imprisoned, but in his own body, watching himself handle Deirdre far more roughly than he would normally. His cock strained against her for just a moment before he pushed inside of her, holding for a moment as her body adjusted to him. His fingers dug painfully into her hips, and his eyes were on fire as he plunged into her.

Deirdre couldn't help it—she cried out. Allan was not huge, but he was not small either, and it always took a moment for her body to adjust to the size of him filling her. His sudden thrust had caught her off balance. He had only ever entered her so quickly twice before—the other night at the cave, when she had been so desperate to feel him filling her up that she had welcomed the pain, and the night Guy had nearly raped her at Locksley. Allan seemed not to notice as he continued driving into her, forcing her to open to him, then pulling out quickly to plunge just as hard and fast back into her. Within a couple of thrusts, her body had adjusted, and Allan's assault was easier to take. He continued to thrust deeply into her, stroking so fast she could barely keep up, but Allan didn't seem to notice as he buried himself somehow deeper, his fingers biting into the flesh of her hips, his head thrown back as he cried out, filling her with his seed.

He stayed buried inside of her for long moments as the sweat began to dry on his body and his breathing softened. He glanced up at her suddenly, his eyes wide as he pulled out of her and looked at her face.

"Jazus, Luv, are ye all right?" His hands roamed her body, lingering over the mound of the baby. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"I'm fine." Deirdre had known what Allan needed and given it gladly; she had no desire for him to feel bad about it.

"It's just, that guard—'e 'ad 'is 'ands all over you and I wanted to kill 'im, Deirdre. And then you riskin’ yerself again. I'm so sorry…"

"Allan, I'm fine." Her eyes were dark blue and liquid, filled with her love for him, as she tried in every way she could to show him that all was well.

"I wanted to kill 'im and when I couldn't…I lost control. I'm sorry, Luv."

"Allan, it's all right. I'm fine. The baby's fine. And now you're fine. We're all safe now. Come here, let's go to sleep."

Deirdre sat up and pulled Allan to lay beside her, cradling his head against her breast and murmuring endearments to him. She felt the warm dampness of his tears on her chest before he fell into an exhausted sleep.


	19. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you live in close quarters, you see more of your "roomies" than you want to sometimes. Later, Deirdre and Allan get some wet sexy time.

Chapter Nineteen: Exposed

Allan awoke in the morning to find himself alone in the bed. He dressed quickly, then went out to get breakfast, hoping to find Deirdre sitting by the fire already eating. Looking around though, he saw that she was not in the camp. Will blushed and dropped his eyes as Allan sat down next to him and tore hungrily into some bread, washing it down with mead.

"Where's Deirdre?" he asked of no one in particular.

Robin looked up from where he was rubbing fat into some arrows, holding them over the fire to heat them. The oil would keep the arrows from warping in the damp of Sherwood Forest, the heat of the fire helping the oil to soak in. He smirked before responding.

"She said she was going to wash up, that she felt dirty from last night. I assume she meant the guard."

Robin winked as Allan grinned and reddened, ducking his head. Feeling his groin tighten yet again at the thought of Deirdre naked and wet, he put down the bread and got up, stretching carefully.

"I could do with a walk this mornin'. I'll be back," Allan proclaimed, striding from the camp. He heard the laughter of his friends behind him, but he didn't care.

* * *

 

Marian and Djaq had been out walking, getting to know one another better as they gathered herbs. After a while, they were hot and dirty from the work and decided to go wash up at the stream before returning to camp. Undressing by some large rocks that stood on the edge of and led into the stream, the women hailed Deirdre, who was standing in water up to her chest, washing as well. In the water, Deirdre turned away while Marian turned on shore, allowing Djaq her privacy to enter the water; Marian was next to enter the stream as Djaq and Deirdre kept their backs turned. Once the women were all in the cooling water, they talked and laughed a bit, enjoying the escape from the hot weather. Djaq and Marian went over by the rocks to grab their clothes in order to wash them while they were there. Deirdre's clothing already lay drying on the granite slab that hung over the stream, and so she lay back to drift in the slight current.

* * *

 

Allan emerged from the path that led to the stream and stopped short, grinning. Deirdre lay on her back in the water; the only things poking above the surface were her face, her toes, her belly, and her nipples, which were hard from the cold water. Quickly, he shucked off his clothes and ran for the water, diving in once he had cleared the shallows.

He surfaced, laughing and grabbing at Deirdre and pulling her back toward the shallows as she squealed in surprise. It was the other squeals that had him pausing and turning carefully to look into the shocked eyes of Djaq and Marian. The two women had their arms crossed over their chests and were ducking down below the surface until only their heads and necks remained above. Allan stood in water that was lapping his hips and quickly covered what was poking out of the water. Behind him, Deirdre began to giggle as she watched the back of his neck turn red. He turned to look back at her.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, then began to laugh himself as her lips continued to twitch.

"Deirdre!" Marian hissed in annoyance. The Irishwoman truly had a warped sense of humor if she thought this was funny.

"Allan A' Dale! Go away!" Djaq called in frustration. Must every member of the gang see her washing at some point? Who was next? Robin?

Allan moved carefully into deeper water before uncovering himself and spreading his arms wide, his smile splitting his face.

"C'mon ladies, what's the harm in a little good, clean fun, eh?" he joked. Deirdre guffawed even louder at the look of horror on her friends' faces. "I just wanted to help my wife…wash her back," he declared innocently.

"If you're not leaving, we are! Turn around, Allan!" Marian ordered, her cheeks reddening even further at Allan's insinuation.

Allan crossed his arms over his chest, waggling his eyebrows at Djaq and Marian suggestively, refusing to turn around until Deirdre leaned up and whispered in his ear. He turned quickly at her reminder that the sooner he cooperated, the sooner they would be alone.

Djaq and Marian splashed rapidly out of the water, less concerned with privacy in front of each other than they had been before. They dressed quickly, then Marian reached down and picked up a rock, lobbing it toward Allan's hip. He yelped and jumped as the rock struck his rump, barely slowing when it hit the water; he could hear laughter as the two women ran through the forest.

"Now, where was I?" Allan asked, twisting back to encircle his wife's waist.

* * *

 

Djaq and Marian strolled back into camp, wet and laughing, and sat by the fire to dry.

"Where've you two been?" demanded Robin his gaze sliding over the lush curves Marian's clinging wet shirt was revealing.

Will's attention was also riveted to Djaq's barely concealed body; when his gaze traveled high enough to reach her eyes, he flushed in embarrassment and ducked his head at the amused look she was shooting him. Little John and Much were away on patrol, watching for Guy and his men, who were sure to come looking for Marian.

"We were hot and went for a swim," Marian answered.

Will's head shot up like it was on a pulled string. "Did you see Deirdre?" he asked, as nonchalantly as he could.

"We did," replied Djaq.

"And Allan?" Robin's voice was strained.

"More than we wanted to," Djaq responded, and both women began to giggle.

Robin and Will jumped up, knocking over the upright logs they had been sitting on. "What?" they cried in unison.

When the women could stop laughing at the murderous look in the men's eyes, Djaq explained.

"He did not know we were there, and we were behind some rocks so we did not see him until we heard the splash as he dove into the water."

Marian continued the explanation. "By the time he surfaced, we had time to cover ourselves."

"But you said you saw more of  _him_  than you wanted to. What did you see, exactly?" Robin demanded.

"He, um," Marian bit her lip to keep from laughing more. "He wasn't  _entirely_  covered by the water. Not at first."

At Robin's murderous look, she added, "But he moved to deeper water as soon as he realized.'

Marian and Djaq shared a look, rolling their eyes at their men's serious expressions. Marian rose and sauntered over to Robin, taking his hand and rising up to kiss his lips.

"You know, for someone who's always telling me not to be such a spoil sport, you are taking this far too seriously. It was an accident, for goodness' sake. No man could ever take me away from you, Robin of Locksley. You should know that by now," she purred, curling her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him close for a deep kiss.

Robin's body relaxed as he kissed Marian. She was right—it had been an accident. Besides, Allan was completely devoted to Deirdre. He circled his arms around Marian's slight waist and crushed her body to his, letting her feel his desire for her. He released her lips and nuzzled her neck.

"Do you know your problem, Darlin'?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "You've been too long unmarried. Marry me, Marian. Now. Before the king returns, before the sheriff is defeated."

Marian considered for a moment—it was tempting. She wanted to marry Robin—had wanted to since they were children—and if she was Robin's wife, she would never have to worry about being a hostage bride again. On the other hand, what kind of life could they have as a married couple, outlawed in Sherwood? She saw the disappointment in his eyes as she hesitated.

"Give me time, Robin. I want to marry you, but I need time to adjust to this new life I'll be leading now. I escaped from the castle, from Gisbourne, for you. He'll be after me, no doubt."

"And that's why you should marry me now, before anything bad happens," Robin pleaded.

"One week, Robin. Give me one week and I'll give you your answer." Marian leaned up to kiss him again, trying to erase the look of disappointment on his face. Behind them, Will sat next to Djaq by the fire, holding her close and helping her to dry off.

* * *

 

Back at the stream, Allan pulled Deirdre through the water until they were behind the rocks. There, he dragged her into a natural alcove, with rocks rising up in front of them and on both sides. He found one that was at a level with the water, but dipping slightly into it; the table-like top was worn smooth by the waves created by the nearby waterfall. With barely any effort at all, he spun Deirdre around so her back was to the stones and lifted her up onto the table rock. She shivered as the air hit her body, but the sun soon warmed her.

Allan grinned at the uncertainty on her face. It wasn't like Deirdre to be off-balance, but it did her good every once in a while to have someone put her in an uncomfortable position. His smile widened as he thought that soon she wouldn't care that she was naked on top of a rock in a stream.

Deirdre watched Allan warily as he grinned at her and nudged her legs apart, pulling her to the edge of the rock so that her bottom barely rested on it. He pulled her head closer for a deep kiss that sent a thrill through her body, then released her mouth to nibble his way down to her breasts. His left arm reached around behind her and held her by the small of her back, his fingers splayed across her skin, while his right hand traced patterns down her side and her leg before returning to push gently on her abdomen, throwing her slightly off balance. His left hand lowered her body until her elbows caught her fall. Again, he grinned wickedly at her before taking his kisses lower.

Deirdre shivered in anticipation as she watched his head approach the juncture of her legs, but he kissed and suckled on her inner thighs instead. She thought she would go mad with impatience as he continued to give all his attention to her legs.

Allan knew he was driving her completely insane, but he was having fun. Every time he moved from one creamy thigh to the other, he passed his mouth and nose close to her sex. She smelled clean and sweet and he wanted to drive into her over and over, but she deserved better after the way he had done her last time. This time, he would make love to her, cherish her. He allowed the fingers that had been teasing her, tickling her leg and belly, to drift closer to her core, brushing lightly against her sex. Allan smiled in satisfaction at Deirdre's sharply indrawn breath. He teased her for another minute, his mouth still working on her thighs, before slipping a finger into her.

Deirdre nearly came up off the rock as Allan slowly pushed his finger into her. Just as slowly as he had pushed it into her, he removed the finger one knuckle at a time, then gently inserted it again, stroking her very leisurely for what seemed an eternity. Deirdre was so focused on Allan's finger moving in and out of her that she nearly screamed, jumping again, when he began sucking at her sex at the same time, carefully picking up the pace with his finger. She felt herself going over the edge, her orgasm claiming her, body and mind.

Allan felt Deirdre tighten around his finger and she cried out, finding her release. Once she was done, but before she had recovered, he quickly removed his finger and began lapping at her with his tongue, licking up her sweetness as it trickled out before burying his face in her, driving his tongue deep. She tasted sweet, a combination of honey and the water that kept making its way into her channel as she sank toward the stream. Deirdre moaned and writhed on the rock, letting her back sink down so that she could reach for Allan. He felt her hands in his hair, urging him on and before long, he was rewarded with another orgasm from his wife.

Allan moved quickly, wanting to enter her before she had finished with her orgasm. He straightened up from his crouch and pushed himself gradually into her, burying himself inch by inch, opening her body to him. He sighed in pleasure when he was fully inside her. Deirdre looked up at him and smiled and he couldn't help but smile back at the happiness on her face. He felt her body squeeze him and he began to move, stroking in and out of her, his motions completely unhurried.

Deirdre opened her eyes, watching the bliss on Allan's face as he pushed himself into her. The look of complete contentment when he was finally all the way inside of her made Deirdre smile, proud that her body could make him so happy. Her breathing became more rapid at the feel of him pushing into her. She urged him to go faster, crying out his name as he responded, picking up the pace. Waves lapped at them both now from the rapid movements of his hips, the water cool until it entered her hot, slick channel, where it warmed immediately before being expelled by Allan re-entering her body. The waves churned to bubbles where their bodies met from the force of their exertions.

Deirdre felt it building inside of her, the sweet pressure that meant she was going over yet again. She tightened around Allan and he responded, each thrust now hard and fast as her body squeezed him, urging him on. Deirdre cried out and clamped down hard on Allan, his own cries mingling with hers as he filled her body, finally allowing himself his own release.

They stayed locked together, panting as they tried to regain their breath. Allan looked down at the fine sheen of sweat on Deirdre's body; her eyes were closed in bliss. He reached down and cupped some of the cool water in his right hand, while his left rubbed her belly and her abdomen As he slowly poured the water over her body, she jumped and yelped, clamping down hard on him as her eyes popped open.

"Allan! What do you think you're doing?" she yelled at him.

Allan grinned and shrugged, completely unapologetic.

"You looked like you were hot. I was trying to cool you down."

Deirdre raised a warning eyebrow at him. "Funny, you look hot too!" she proclaimed, bringing her feet quickly up from behind him and pushing against his belly. The force of the push not only pulled him from her body, but dumped him unceremoniously into the water. He soon re-surfaced, laughing and splashing the water from his hair. Deirdre squealed and jumped off the rock, trying to out-swim her husband as he shot her a look that promised revenge.


	20. Lepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guy begins his trip to London. Deirdre gets her way with Allan. The gang prepares for a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friar Tuck will make an appearance, but I did not like the one provided by the show. I chose to stick to the one from legend.

Chapter Twenty: Lepers

Sir Guy of Gisbourne paced the halls of Nottingham castle, waiting to escort the latest consignment of taxes to London, where Prince John was setting up winter quarters. It had been a month now since Marian's escape, a month of enduring the snickers of his men and the snide comments of the sheriff. He had entertained the notion of chasing after Marian for no longer than a heartbeat; he would not make a fool of himself over her anymore.

The guards' descriptions had also led him to believe that A’Dale and Hood had been lying about the whereabouts of Deirdre and the little Saracen woman. The only part that gave him pause was the guard saying the Lady had been with child. It had been bad enough knowing that she was married to A’Dale, but to think of her bearing that man's child, when it should have been his... The thought that she must be lying with him was far different from the proof of it. He hated to admit that it cut him deep, that Allan was living  _his_  life— _except the whole outlawed thing_ , he smiled to himself at that thought.

No mind, the change of scenery, particularly the lack of headstrong women, would do him good, and if outlaws attacked…he only hoped it would be Robin Hood so he could take out some of his frustration on the former lord of Locksley. In the meantime, the only women he wanted were ones he could use to assuage his body's needs and then send away. No more of love—he should have remembered that lesson, taught by the back of his foster father's hand all those years ago, that love was weakness, compassion a limp sword. From now on he would be forged of steel, a fortress with his gates shut against love. He would marry one day, a young, malleable woman of means; someone who would further his position and be a docile brood-mare providing him with sons. Then, no one would laugh at him anymore; at least, no one who cared to keep their tongue.

* * *

 

In Sherwood Forest, the women were preparing for the upcoming nuptials. Marian had finally agreed to marry Robin, much to everyone's relief, and Robin's mood had shown a vast improvement. The date had been set for the day before Marian would have had to marry Guy—September twenty-first. The hardest part had been finding a priest.  Luckily the abbey at Kirklees had provided the answer in the form of young, corpulent Friar Tuck. Tuck was the youngest son of a minor lord, whose father had—to his demise—been a staunch supporter of King Richard. While Tuck had not been forced to pay for his father's "sins" due to his status within the Church, he was not a friend to Prince John, and was only too happy to marry Robin Hood to his childhood sweetheart. He had escaped the restrictions of the abbey by claiming he was going on a small pilgrimage—not a complete lie, as he would do so after joining Robin and Marian. He walked along with the outlaws, completely unaware of their destination.

Marian walked ahead of the group with Djaq and Deirdre. It had been Deirdre's idea that they all go to Madeline's and that the wedding be held there so that Marian could at least be prepared for her wedding night. It had not been so easy to convince Allan to bring up the idea to Robin, although in the end, Allan had nearly begged to talk to Robin.

" _Allan, can we talk?"_   _Deirdre had accosted her husband as they had walked along, gathering firewood for the camp._

_Allan looked at her askance. Any time a woman said to a man, "can we talk?", there was usually trouble ahead for the man. He swallowed nervously and tried not to meet her eyes as he responded, "Yeah, sure."_

_Deirdre was not making it easy on him though, as she had stopped to rest on a large rock, placing her load on the ground beside her and stretching her back, closing her eyes for a moment as she did so._

_Allan's eyes were riveted to her chest; it didn't matter how many times he had seen, touched, licked, and suckled on her breasts—when she moved like that and she looked ready to burst the cloth of her dress, he wanted to see them all over again. Deirdre cracked an eyelid._

Good, I have his attention, _she thought._

" _Allan, I was thinking we should have Robin and Marian's wedding at Madeline's."_

_Allan closed his eyes for a second and shook his head to clear it, uncertain he had heard her right._

" _I'm sorry. What did you say?"_

_“Robin and Marian. They should get married at Madeline’s.”_

" _Not this again! I thought I told you, Deirdre, that Robin wants to be married at the camp; the less travel, the better with our group gettin' so big."_

" _I know, but we can keep out of sight. The way to Madeline's is mostly deer tracks."_

" _I'm not bein' funny, Luv, but why can't they just get married here, I mean at the camp? Why does it have to be at Madeline's?"_

_Deirdre levered herself off the rock and sashayed over to Allan, playing idly with a lock of her hair, twisting it around her finger as she chewed her lower lip. Allan knew he was in trouble now; he raised his hands between them in self-defense._

" _I dunno what you're up to, Deirdre, but no. Just no."_

_Deirdre began rubbing his chest, pouting at him. "I'm just thinking of_ them _. Remember how little I knew of what went on between men and women? Marian could use Madeline's guidance," she purred at him, reaching up on tip-toe to nibble one of his ears._

_Allan pulled his head back, looking down at her sideways as she spoke._

" _That's none o' our business, Luv."_

" _Don't you want their first night to be special?" she cooed as her hand traveled lower. Allan's breath hitched as she began rubbing him through the material of his pants._

" _I really don't want to think about their first night, if you don't mind."_

_Deirdre began nibbling his neck, his chest, his belly, and thinking in general became difficult. His cock twitched in anticipation as she reached in to free him of the confines of his pants._

" _Just think of all the interesting things Madeline taught me," she whispered, her warm breath feathering over him, causing him to harden even more._

" _I.. uh…I taught you some things too," he managed to hiss as Deirdre's finger rubbed over the head of him cock, moistening him with the drop of pre-come that had sprung out as he thought of all his wife's "lessons."_

" _Mmmm, you certainly did. But how much more fun would those lesson have been if I'd talked to Madeline first, eh?" she inquired._

_Allan had no time to answer as she drew him to the ground, straddling him squirming until she was able to couch him inside of her. She pushed herself down until he was all the way in, making him groan and close his eyes in pleasure. He opened them to find her opening her shirt and pulling out her breasts; they were glistening with milk, and Allan knew a way to help her out with that particular problem. He put his hands up to her back, drawing her down until he could reach her chest, then began suckling on first one then the other. She threw her head back, her hands on his chest as she rode him low and slow, obviously not wanting to unlatch his mouth as he played his tongue along her nipple._

_The sight of her there above him with the pleasure stamped on her face, the taste of her, the smell of her skin and her excitement had him losing control. He released her breast and she whimpered. She sat back, taking him deeper and sitting tall on him, her breasts thrust forward from the cloth and bouncing lightly as she began to ride him. He moved his hands to her hips, helping her to take him harder, faster, deeper, until they cried out their pleasure and she collapsed onto his chest._

" _So, Madeline's? You'll talk to Robin?" she panted, leaning down to kiss his mouth._

_Allan's breath was ragged. "What?" was all he managed as he tried to bring his mind back to the here and now._

_She looked up at him and blinked guilelessly before bending to nuzzle his neck._

" _Please, Allan, for me." Deirdre kissed his neck, just below his ear. "Talk to Robin." She bit his earlobe lightly and he felt himself begin to stir again already. "Convince him."_

_Allan knew he was being played and didn't care. "I will," he whispered fervently. He rolled her over and pushed back inside of her, riding her hard until they came again._

So now they were on their way to Madeline's hut. The women would spend the night inside, preparing the bride, while the men slept outside. Allan was trying to listen to the conversation between Robin and Tuck, but the swaying of his wife's hips as she walked ahead of them with Marian and Djaq had him distracted. Robin didn't seem to be having the same problem with Marian. Allan wondered if there was something wrong with him; they had been married for six months now and he still couldn't seem to get enough of her. He shook his head and deliberately tore his gaze away to look into the bemused face of Robin.

"Just you wait, Robin. You'll be in the same pickle before long." Allan grinned and clapped Robin on the shoulder as they entered the little clearing.

Robin chuckled. "I hope not. Half our gang gone in a fog…won't be good for business."

"Well, we've still got Little John, Much, Djaq , and Will. Well, we've got Little John and Much," he amended, noting the puppy eyes being exchanged between Will and Djaq.

"What are you complainin' about now, Allan A' Dale?" Madeline demanded as she extricated herself from Deirdre's embrace, arms outstretched to give Allan a hug as well.

Allan hugged the old woman he had once feared, the woman who had saved his wife and child.

"We was just sayin' as half the gang is down with a case of lovesickness." He grinned at her. Somehow he could never lie to the healer—he had come to respect her too much in the past months.

Madeline turned back and beamed at her favorite patient; the Irish girl had matured a lot over the past months and Madeline was as proud of Deirdre as if she was her own daughter.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. Within a couple of months, your sweet little wife won't be able to stand the sight of you."

Allan gaped at Madeline in mock horror, clutching his chest.

"How could you tell such a terrible lie, Mother?"

"Don't think that because you show me respect, you can wiggle out of  _that_  truth, young man! There's not a woman alive who can stand the sight of her husband when her time nears, and during the birth, she may even shed aspersions on your parentage."

Allan grinned cheekily, patting the pocket on his over-shirt. "I've got that woman firmly in m'pocket. No worries."

Madeline cocked an eyebrow at Allan, smiling sardonically. "Of course you do, Son. Of course you do. Come now, let's get the lot of you settled."

* * *

 

Guy of Gisbourne sat straight and tall in his saddle. The cool autumn breeze blew refreshingly through his hair. As he crossed the River Trent, he felt better than he had since he had thought himself in love with Deirdre O'Niall. He felt lighter. He was already scheming for a way to remain in London for the winter. The longer he stayed away from Nottingham, the better. The outlaws and the women angered him nearly every day, and at least the sheriff's acerbic tongue could not touch him in London. His guards had also become quieter and more respectful since he had removed the tongue of the last man who had snickered at him. Things were definitely looking up.


End file.
